


i struggle and emerge

by buvkissteves



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bearded Steve Rogers, Explicit Sexual Content, Flashbacks, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, bucky and steve both need hugs and are both protective over each other, if there is a triggering chapter it will be specified at the start of it, lots of fluff and love and sex and deep talks, there will also probably be an adopted cat at some point just because
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-07
Updated: 2017-08-22
Packaged: 2018-12-12 04:40:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 22,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11729682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buvkissteves/pseuds/buvkissteves
Summary: “Don’t leave me,” Steve whispered, a vulnerability he would only announce to one person in the world—Bucky Barnes. The hope diminished as quickly as it had come and was replaced with something even worse—need. The need for love, for comfort, for Bucky.Bucky’s hand gripped his knife hard, a battle behind his eyes. “I-In the summer…you tasted like peaches.” Then, before Steve could shout yes from the top of his lungs, before he could say 'yes, because they’re my favourite fruit, and you would always kiss me while I was eating them', Bucky was gone, and Steve was left with nothing but his memories to keep him company in the dark.[takes place between civil war and infinity war]





	1. nomad

Here’s the thing about waking up.

Sometimes it’s easy. It’s opening your eyes and seeing the sun and knowing that it’s time to roll out of bed. Other times, your eyes are too heavy and the sun is trying to get through but it’s not the moment, but your brain is telling you something else. So, you force your eyes open and get to work, and do what has to get done for the day.

Other times, it’s worse.

Other times it’s the sun shining through but you can’t register it. It’s waking up and losing yourself for a moment. Not remembering exactly why you were put on this earth, what it is you were meant to do, and really, if you’re worth being here at all. Those are the hard days, those are the days where you can wake up, but getting out of bed is a whole other concept.

For Steve Rogers, days like that so rarely came. He was good at getting up, doing what had to be done, and coming out of the other side still fighting. Today though, was not one of those days. Today was a day where Steve was awake and living, but not alive. He was tired, he was lonely, and his brain was too loud.

Lonely was not a word Steve would use lightly in terms of himself, in fact, he almost never had to use that to describe himself. Once upon a time, he was with Bucky in Brooklyn, and then he went under, and when he came out he was assigned to a team. Not that the Avengers gave him the same sense of belonging that Bucky did, but he appreciated them and they filled a hole. Or rather, numbed the pain of having the hole. A big, Bucky sized one that only got rectified when Bucky was back in his life. Until he had to leave him at Wakanda, and was forced to leave.

 _“I do not want you to have hope where there might be none,”_ T’Challa had told him calmly. _“Having you here makes my people nervous, and if you want this done right, you breathing down their necks will not help us.”_

Steve frowned at the sunlight and turned over in his bed, shoving his face into the pillow. He did not want to get out of bed today, he wanted to lay here, and avoid eating, or drinking or showering. It didn’t help that last night he had dreamed up a memory, a memory that was not sad and not happy—it was a strange in between, that left him longing for the person he loved the most. The memory was clear as ever, it was when Steve was laying in this hospital bed, after the fight with Bucky, and after Sam had left. That too, had left Steve with an incredible amount of ache.

 

* * *

 

When Steve woke up, the monitor that picked up his heart ratings went a little berserk. He tried to move, to put a hand on his chest to steady himself, but his muscles were so sore, and his internal organs were still doing their best to heal, so he didn’t move. He tried to get his breathing down to an acceptable level, focusing on the man who was sitting in the corner of the room.

“Buck,” Steve squirmed, wincing. Bucky Barnes, the old one, would have reacted immediately to something like that. Bucky Barnes of the 1940s, would have said something like ‘Don’t move Steve, you’re hurt,’ but this wasn’t necessarily Bucky, and so he said nothing. He looked a little more like Bucky, his hair curled around his ears, a cap on. He was wearing layers, no longer in his winter soldier uniform. He was everything Steve remembered and yet so far away from the Bucky Barnes he knew and loved all at once.

Bucky, Steve just noticed, had a knife in his hand. He was holding it loosely, like he was not really going to use it, but the prospect of it was comforting.

Considering Bucky wasn’t talking, Steve decided to fill the silence. “You have to be careful Bucky. You can’t get caught. If they find you—”

“They can’t kill me.” Bucky said. The tone of his voice made Steve’s stomach twist uncomfortably, it sounded more like the Winter  Soldier, more the like the person Bucky was not, even though he hadn’t killed Steve just yet. It matched his eyes—they were ghosts, remnants of whatever Hydra did to him still haunting him.

“Buck,” Steve whispered. “You saved me.”

Bucky’s eyes hardened. “That was not the mission.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time one of us strayed from a mission.” He offered a small smile, but Bucky did not take it. So carefully, he proceeded. “You remember me, don’t you?”

“No,” Bucky murmured, but there was an edge to his voice and a small twitch by his lip. Steve knew when Bucky was lying to him. Hope built in his chest, consuming him like wildfire. He was never good at containing such a thing when it came to Bucky Barnes.

He knew that it reflected in his voice when he said, “But you’re trying.” When Bucky didn’t answer that, Steve assumed that he was right. “There’s things the museum won’t tell you Bucky. Things that only I can tell you.”

“We died.” Bucky told him—it was abrupt, like he didn’t want to acknowledge what Steve was saying to him. “Maybe they should have let us stay dead.” He got up from his chair and Steve shifted again, a beg falling from him.

“Bucky, please—”

Bucky paused, a quick flash of pain in his eyes. It was there only for a second before it was gone, leaving Bucky with that same dead look that he came in with. Steve wished he knew how to take it away, how to replace it with something that meant he was okay, to give Bucky something that would make him feel _real_.

“Don’t leave me,” Steve whispered, a vulnerability he would only announce to one person in the world—Bucky Barnes. The hope diminished as quickly as it had come and was replaced with something even worse—need. The need for love, for comfort, for _Bucky_.

Bucky’s hand gripped his knife hard, a battle behind his eyes. “I-In the summer…you tasted like peaches.” Then, before Steve could shout yes from the top of his lungs, before he could say _yes, because they’re my favourite fruit, and you would always kiss me while I was eating them,_ Bucky was gone, and Steve was left with nothing but his memories to keep him company in the dark.

 

* * *

 

Steve groaned loudly when the doorbell rang.

He had found himself, a nice, quiet home on the country side of the region of Abruzzo, in Italy. He lived in the plateau of Campo Imperatore, which was below the highest peak of the Apennine Mountains. It was warm, so the area was flooded with rich agriculture, shepherds with their sheep and cattle, horses running amok. No one looked for Steve here, very few people knew that he was staying here at all. So the fact that his doorbell was ringing at all was of immense annoyance to him.

He rolled himself out of bed, scratching what was the beginning of a beard on his face, and pushing his growing hair away from his face. Steve made sure he didn’t look in the mirror as he walked past it, not quite comfortable in his body today. He grabbed his pants and pulled them on quickly, buttoning them before walking towards the entrance. His house was small, rented out for the summer, as its tenants were away. That’s what he had been doing, moving from place to place. ‘Nomad’, Sam had called him over a series of text messages.

The house was being kept clean by a maid who came twice a week for a few hours in the morning, but besides that Steve barely used it. He got up, took a shower, went for a run, worked out, and found missions to go on. He wasn’t able to wear his suit just yet, it felt wrong on him, but he put on pants and a t-shirt, and sometimes wore a mask and went about Europe, righting wrongs and helping out where he saw fit. Sometimes, Nat or Sam called him in for a favor, and he would join them, and it would almost feel like it was back to normal.

Almost.

Steve put on his best polite smile, and it dropped immediately when he opened the door. Standing there, with a backpack on his shoulders and a hood over his head was Bucky Barnes, and King T’Challa right next to him. In the distance, Steve registered the king’s bodyguards, but he paid them no mind.

Bucky looked…well, a little more like _his_ Bucky. There was still a defensive pose to him, something Steve figured as ingrained in him by this point, but his eyes seemed lighter. There was a small upturn to his mouth, like he remembered a smile. His hair was still long, but his face was clean shaven. It made Steve’s heart skip a beat; seeing Bucky like this, as though he was uncertain of himself. Not that he had any reason to be. He was beautiful, and in front of Steve, and there was life to his eyes.

“Bucky.” Steve breathed.

Bucky gave him a shy smile—something very unlike himself. “Nice beard.” He grinned a little wider—it threw Steve off for a moment.

“What? Oh,” Steve touched his face again, laughing softly. “Yeah, thanks. Um, come in, sorry, I’m just…”

“Actually,” T’Challa said calmly, putting his arms behind his back. “Captain Rogers—”

“Steve,” he said abruptly. “Just Steve.” There were a million reasons why he could not be called that anymore, but there were even more reasons why he couldn’t say them. Those were for things he would keep close to his heart for now, and would acknowledge them when he was able to deal with it.

T’Challa nodded softly. “Steve, may I have a word with you?”

“Sure,” Steve nodded, smiling lightly at Bucky who walked past him, uncertainty visible in his gaze as he entered the home. Steve forced himself to look away and walked out the door, closing it behind him. They walked about halfway to the guard, where T’Challa’s private jet had landed. Steve tried to focus on the way the cool air felt on his skin, but it did little to ease his nerves. Every step he took further away from the house hurt, and he found himself looking around, scared for his life that the United Nations had tagged T’Challa and followed him here.

“You look worried,” T’Challa told him.

“I’m always worried.”  Steve admitted, grabbing the king’s arm to stop him. “Bucky is waiting inside. I don’t want to be long.” Steve had to ignore the look that T’Challa gave him. It was knowing, but he had the good grace not to mention it.

“There are some things, I think are worth knowing.”

“Tell me.”

“We took out what we could, and fashioned him a new arm. He will no longer slip into the mindset of the Winter Soldier even if he hears the words that originally triggered him. That does not mean, however, that he will not slip.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You are a solider, Captain.”

“I’m not—”

“You could take yourself out of the Avengers, but that does not make you any less of a Captain, Mr. Rogers. Listen close, you and your friend have been fighting a war before and after you emerged from the ice. Those words will not make him a Winter Soldier but they can trigger him. He is Bucky again, but he suffers as much as any war veteran. Not to trivialize what you have seen, but he—”

“I know he’s had it worse.” Steve mumbled. “He has PTSD.”

“Yes.”

Steve was less than surprised with that information. Steve suffered with it himself, and being half sedentary as he was, despite the nickname Sam had given him, was feeling the weight of it more than he cared to admit. That was something else the fighting within Avengers did for him, it kept him sane. If you were still fighting, you couldn’t focus on yourself. When it stopped, your brain became ten times louder than anyone wanted it to be. He could only imagine the kind of pain Bucky was in. “Anything else?”

“He’s had some…episodes. He has lost himself to his memories more than once, we’ve kept him at bay but…”

“Is he dangerous?”

“To himself. Not to others.”

Unless he’s in a fight, Steve almost added, but refrained. He grabbed T’Challa’s hand, shaking it firmly. “Thank you for everything. I’ll take care of him.”

“And who, Captain, will take care of you?”

Steve’s answer came easy. “Bucky.”

Steve turned on his heels and went back inside, a smile settling over his face as he watched Bucky get comfortable, his bag already dropped on the floor, with his jacket off. He was wearing a t-shirt, his new starless metal arm shining brightly from the sunlight that streamed in through the windows. He looked, quite simply, beautiful. For a brief moment, Steve wondered if this was another one of his dreams. If he was being tortured by his subconscious.

Until Bucky met his gaze, and that’s when Steve knew it was not a dream. His heart beat erratically against his chest as their cool eyes met with each other, and that was never something that happened in one of his dreams.

Bucky grinned crookedly—it was a smile Steve recognized. “Can you even speak Italian?”

Steve smiled back. “No, but you can,” and he shut the door, closing them off from the rest of the world. “Welcome back, Buck.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please leave me some comments and thoughts if you liked it :) xx


	2. answers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I missed you.” He shook his head. “So much that it ate me up inside.”
> 
> Bucky nodded. “I missed you even when I couldn’t remember you.”
> 
> Steve’s face was a picture of sadness. He got up from where he sat and desperately, Bucky wished for him to walk over to him, to kiss him, to straddle his hips and make him forget that they were ever apart to begin with.

“Nice place,” Bucky motioned around the living room. It was hard to focus on anything besides the fact that Steve was here, in front of him, only a few steps away. The small talk they had to have was maddening. He wished they could bypass this but they couldn’t—they never had this talk, about what they meant to each other after all this time. They had gotten together, then Bucky had gone to war, and then they reunited, and it was beautiful until Bucky died. Then they were separated. Now they were together, except not really, and Bucky knew they had to have the awkward, or heartbreaking conversation before they could even bother trying to mend the bridge between them. It had to be done. “Is it yours?”

Steve shook his head. “I’m renting it for the summer. I didn’t…if I knew you were coming we could have gone somewhere else.” He walked to the window and looked out, before letting the curtain fall back to its place.

“I don’t know,” Bucky shrugged, looking around him. “I think it’s kind of nice. It feels like the honeymoon we never had.” He threw a playful look to Steve who returned it, much to Bucky’s pleasure.

Steve snorted, and Bucky’s stomach twisted. Maybe they could get back to how it was so easily. “I would have to propose to you first.”

“Why do you get to propose?”

“I’m more romantic than you.”

“Punk,” Bucky smiled, and it was real and honest and true, but not enough. Steve’s face swam over his, his eyes looking at Bucky’s mouth before he looked back at his eyes. Steve’s joy was replaced with that depressingly haunted look that he so often wore when he thought too much. It was one of the downfalls of being an old man in a young body. “Tony made me the arm,” Bucky said as Steve crossed the room, going to sit down on the couch. “Or he worked alongside T’Challa. Something like that,” Bucky waved his human hand around in dismissal, before he also took a seat, but sitting across from Steve, looking at him directly. It seemed important to him, to do that, to be across from Steve so their eyes could meet.

“I’ll write him,” Steve said, his voice tired. Bucky almost frowned, but refrained and instead observed Steve. He never saw Steve with facial hair before, and needless to say it was something. It made him look less like the kid from Brooklyn and more like…Bucky didn’t even know. He wasn’t Captain America either now. He was just…

“Steve,” Bucky said softly. “Are you—”

“I’m okay,” Steve answered immediately, and he rearranged his features so that he could smile at Bucky. “Did you just wake up?”

“No,” Bucky’s eyes were swallowing Steve, his face, his chest, the beautiful collarbones that Bucky adored even when Steve was skinny. “I’ve been up for about a month.”

Steve’s eyes flashed dangerously. “A month?” There it was—the look that Bucky had been dreading. Steve had a face that made you feel like you betrayed him even when you didn’t. It was a blessing and a curse, because Steve, half the time, didn’t even know he was using it. It made the people around him feel guilty and repent, or start a fight.  Bucky was the only one who was able to find a safe middle ground.

“Don’t be angry,” Bucky wanted to close this insane distance between them. He wished he would have sat next to Steve instead of across from him. He wanted to touch him, he wanted to hold him, to _feel_ him. Bucky had been starving for so long, he had been drowning, and he wanted to come up for air. “I didn’t want to come here without having my mind a little more at peace.”

Steve stared at him. “Are you? At peace?”

Bucky shrugged. “Are you?”

“I don’t need peace Buck.”

“What do _you_ need then?” Bucky asked. He was glad this was not all about him, as it had been for so long. They were both suffering, and they both had to find a way to be okay, not only with each other, but with themselves. Both of those things though, could be done as a team. Bucky wanted nothing more than that.

“Answers,” Steve murmured. “I need answers.”

Bucky leaned back where he sat, getting comfortable. “I will tell you anything.”

“A month. A month I’ve been…” Steve shook his head, dropping them into his hands. Bucky knew what he wanted to say; it was a month Steve was thinking Bucky wasn’t going to come out from under the ice. A month of Steve being alone. A month of extra pain when maybe there didn’t need to be any. “There I go, making this about me again.”

Bucky, who knew Steve better than Steve knew himself said, “You’re not selfish. I would have been angry too.”

“I’m not angry.”

“You can be,” Bucky murmured. _Be angry, be sad, be happy, be something that isn’t this. Something that isn’t hiding behind that new facial hair. Give me Steve back, that’s the only way I could give you Bucky._ Instead he said, “I would be.”

“I could never be angry with you Bucky.”

“Liar,” Bucky grinned, and Steve grinned, because they both knew it was bullshit. When Bucky saw that Steve was not going to budge, he sighed and retold his tale best he could without getting into too much detail. “I woke up with a new arm and a clear head, but not clear enough to erase knowing too many languages and how it feels to have blood soak your hand. I woke up and you weren’t there.” He didn’t think he would ever forget those things—the blood, the pain, the murder. Steve at least, made it easier to handle.

“I wanted to be.” Steve said, his tone desperate and pleading. As though Bucky would honestly believe anything else.

“I know,” Bucky murmured, picking at a loose string on his pants. “That’s what they told me. They asked me if I wanted to contact you right away, but I…I didn’t think it was a good idea.”

“Why?” Steve asked, his voice barely above a whisper. Bucky saw every piece of pain flash over his expression, and had no idea how to take that from him. “I could have helped you Bucky.”

“You help me every day, even when you’re not there.” Bucky murmured softly, and Steve’s expression softened. “The King got me a therapist, I think she’s going to be coming here once a week. I have a new arm. I remember everything now Steve.”

“That doesn’t mean you’re better. You’re still damaged.”

Bucky hated that word. He spat the words back at Steve, not minding his momentary anger. “Takes one to know one.”

“So what are we doing Bucky?” Steve asked seriously, not taking Bucky’s anger too personally. “Whole world is looking for us, I have team mates fighting aliens every other day. Are we just sitting it out, and shacking up?”

“I don’t think we’re sitting anything out.” Bucky told him. “We’re taking care of each other before we take care of others. The fight starts with inside. If they need us, we go, but that doesn’t mean we aren’t allowed to fix ourselves.”

Steve looked at him fondly. “Did His Highness teach you philosophy, too?”

“No,” Bucky laughed. “I just think we can only be as good out there as we are in here.”

“What if it’s not enough?” Steve asked.

“Since when were you not enough for me?” _Since when did you lose this much hope,_ Bucky wanted to ask.

“I don’t think I ever was.” Steve sighed, closing his eyes and leaning back. Bucky longed for a day where Steve would not be laced with self-doubt. None of his team mates knew how much he struggled with that. “I can’t ever help you, not really. I like to think that I do, I even told T’Challa that I could, but I’m just…I don’t know what to give you.”

“I’m not asking for anything.”

Steve either didn’t hear him, or didn’t believe him. “I don’t know how to give you what you need Bucky. I don’t know what your lines are, or when it’s okay to touch you or—”

“Is that what you think?” Bucky asked, completely astounded. “That I don’t like to be touched by you?” _That is the only thing that I want._

Steve rubbed a hand over his beard, his nails digging into it. His eyes continued to give him away, the sadness that was lurking deep within him. “Things are different now.”

“Things are the same.”  Bucky’s voice was very hard, even to his own ears.

“No, Bucky, things are different. Things were different even before you went back under, we just weren’t allowed to focus on it.”

“Jesus Christ, it feels like you’re breaking up with me.” And though his voice came out as a grumble, anger laced in it, the fear that plagued his body petrified him. The very thought of being apart from Steve in that way was enough to send him back into every bad place Bucky was working so hard to avoid. The only thing that got him through that new month of being awake was knowing it was all to see Steve again.

Bucky didn’t know what his face looked like, but his expression was enough to make Steve’s eyes go wide. Steve shook his head frantically. “No. No, Bucky.” He said tiredly. “I just...we haven’t been together in a long time.”

“Why do we have to rush?” Bucky asked, exasperated. “We can figure this out together, like we always did.” He wished Steve would reach across the way for him.

Steve nodded slowly. “You’re right, I’m sorry. I just…I had a bad dream. It’s making me anxious.”

“What did you dream about?”

Steve smiled sadly. “When you came to visit me at the hospital.” Bucky’s heart sank when Steve recalled the memory. “You looked…you looked so outside yourself. You were there but not really, your mind was split almost. Then you told me about our summers, you remembered that I tasted like peaches.”

Bucky smiled softly. _Move,_ he told himself, _move to the other couch. Be with him._ “You ate two a day, minimum. The juice dribbled down your chin like an animal.”

Steve’s eyes glinted in remembrance. “You would lick it up, like an animal.”

“You did taste good.” Bucky laughed loudly, feeling it all over his body. He meant that in every possible way it could be taken.

Steve laughed softly, shaking his head. “Jeez Buck,”

Bucky watched Steve’s laugh make his shoulder shake, before it settled down quietly. For a moment, Bucky allowed the silence to take them. It was not always such a terrible thing, to sit in silence. Bucky counted until a full minute had been reached before he quietly said, “It’s not like that anymore Steve. I remember now.”

“I know. I guess I’m scared you’re going to slip away from me again.” There it was, Bucky thought. This was not just about Bucky’s lines. This was about Steve’s lines, and what he feared.

“Is this really about you worried about how I want to be touched, or are you just afraid of touching me? I’m not a ghost story anymore Steve.”

“I think I need to keep reminding myself that. I’m sorry.” Steve shook his head. “I finally got you back, and I’m ruining it.”

“You’re thinking too much.” Bucky said for a way of disagreement.

“Is that your polite way of telling me to shut up?”

“No, that’s my polite way of telling you to make me breakfast.”

Steve laughed, and it was one of his real ones, which made Bucky smile. He wanted so desperately to close this foolish distance between them, but didn’t know how to ask for it. In the truth of it all, Bucky suspected that between the two of them, neither of them knew how to touch each other anymore. After all, it had been over 70 years that they had touched each other in a way that lovers do. Bucky could barely remember what it felt like to have Steve under him, or over him, or his mouth on his, or his hands embracing him. He had the memories, but not the feeling.

There was only one thing to do, if they were ever going to move forward together; they would have to bare their souls to one another. Their relationship would have to be rebuilt, it would have to be new. Not everything could be as it was.

“Steve,” Bucky murmured. “I…” _I love you still. I miss you. I miss you even now, and you’re right in front of me._

One thing that was the same, was how well Steve knew Bucky’s emotions. “I missed you.” He shook his head. “So much that it ate me up inside.”

Bucky nodded. Both of them would never tell another human being on the planet besides each other, because that’s how they were, they kept those things inside, but they were there all the same. “I missed you even when I couldn’t remember you.”

Steve’s face was a picture of sadness. He got up from where he sat and desperately, Bucky wished for him to walk over to him, to kiss him, to straddle his hips and make him forget that they were ever apart to begin with.

Instead, Steve said, “I’ll go put on a shirt, and make some breakfast.” Bucky wondered if he meant something else.

Bucky did when he replied, “You don’t need to get all dressed up for me.”

“Everything I do, is for you, Buck.” Steve said, and even though he winked, Bucky couldn’t help but feel the immeasurable pain behind those words.

 

* * *

 

 

“Fuck me, it’s hot out.”

“You know, in the 1940s you were a gentleman.”

“I stopped being a gentleman the day I put my dic—”

“Bucky!”

Bucky was content however, when he got a laugh out of Steve. They were outside, each of them with a beer, on two lawn chairs that were close by each other. Bucky, while Steve laughed, lifted his feet and put them on Steve. He was wearing shorts, so when Steve put his hand leisurely on Bucky’s leg, an enormous amount of comfort settled on him. Steve’s thumb circled back and forth on Bucky’s leg. It was the first time they had touched all day. Now, the sun was setting, and they were looking out at it, Steve looking nearly peaceful. Bucky couldn’t look away.

The feeling of their hands touching each other was heavenly. It was warmth, and love, and everything Bucky hadn’t been able to have for so long.

“I don’t regret it, you know.” Bucky murmured. “Coming back. I mean, I regret all the blood and murder—” he laughed when Steve slapped his leg. “But I don’t regret it really, in the end. If this was God’s way of bringing me back to you, then so be it.”

Steve looked like he didn’t know whether those words were meant to be comforting or not. “You don’t believe in God, Buck.”

“No,” Bucky agreed. “But you do.”

Steve nodded slowly. “I think about Him sometimes. About how He lets everything on this world just…happen. How is that okay? How was it okay to put you in that position, where you were brainwashed and taken apart as you were. I lost faith Bucky. That was something I never wanted to lose.”

“It’s okay to lose that sometimes, Steve.”

“How are you okay with it? Losing all that time?”  Steve looked over at him, his hand sliding up to his knee.

“I’m not okay with it.” Bucky murmured. “I just came to terms with it. I can’t change what happened, no matter how much I wish I could.” He reached out, holding his breath for a moment as he put his hand over Steve’s, and felt Steve’s hand tense beneath his own. It took a few seconds, but they eventually relaxed and let their fingers twine together. “Sometimes…I dream about killing you.”

Steve didn’t even flinch. “I was your mission.”

“You were always more than a mission. You’re my greatest strength and weakness, hope and fear.” Bucky said simply, not minding to lay his truths out in front of the only person he ever loved. Some people would say that it was very unlike Bucky, this modern Bucky, who was mysterious and guarded. Steve though, knew that Bucky was someone who said whatever was on his mind. In the 1940s he said it in such a polite way that it left people stunned, unlike Steve who was a hot head half the time. “When I have those dreams, it’s worse than dreaming of the war. The idea that it was something that was supposed to happen, the idea that I _could_ have killed you—that I almost did.”

“You didn’t though.”

“It doesn’t mean I didn’t try.”

Steve simply nodded, staying quiet for a moment before he turned Bucky’s hand over in his, studying the lines of his palm. He used to do that a lot, study Bucky like he was a piece of art. Bucky always said it was just because Steve was an artist, and liked to notice every single detail, but Steve always said it was because Bucky was beautiful. Either way, it was poetic.

Bucky wanted to kiss him.

Bucky didn’t know how to ask.

It had been a long time since they had kissed. Bucky wondered if he was bad at it now.

“Steve—”

The phone rang, and the moment ended. Steve sighed, lifting his hips but keeping his hand twined with Bucky’s, so he could answer it.

“Hey Sam,” he answered, a smile on his face but it didn’t reach his eyes. Bucky was glad for that, it meant he was just as peeved that their conversation got ruined as he was. “Okay, yeah, where?” He paused for a few moments, and then, “Thor, huh…okay. Yeah, alright. Five, no problem. See you then.” He shut his phone and let out a sigh, letting the phone drop to the ground.

“What’s wrong?”  Bucky squeezed his hand.

“Sam needs my help tomorrow. He, Thor and Nat are taking a trip to Vienna.” The word came out bitter in Steve’s tongue—Bucky didn’t have to ask why.  Bucky died in Vienna, he fell into the Danube River. “They need my help.”

“What for?”

“I don’t know,” Steve admitted. “Sam said they would tell me tomorrow on the plane. I’m sorry Buck.”

“Don’t be. I’m coming with you.”

“Bucky—”

“Don’t,” Bucky said quietly. “If you think I’m letting you go off without me, after I just got you back, you’re out of your damn mind.”

Steve knew when to argue with his best friend, lover, soulmate—whatever word they were, it was a result of all three of those words. He did not choose this particular moment, and instead, brought Bucky’s human hand that he was holding up to his lips, kissing it ever so softly. Bucky’s heart skipped a few beats, and he was quite sure he was holding his breath again.

“Thank you Bucky.” Steve whispered. His eyes twinkled with mischief and sadness, all at once. “Just don’t die this time.”

Bucky grinned back. “That’s a shit joke.”

“It’s not really a joke.”

“I know Steve, I know.” His heart swelled with love as Steve let their hands fall back onto his lap, holding on tightly as they watched the sun set that night.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please leave me some comments and thoughts if you liked it :) xx


	3. the spear of odin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What are you doing?” he whispered, fear evident in his tone. His human hand shook considerably as he placed it on Steve’s chest, a sigh falling from him from the skin to skin content. Steve took his free hand and pressed it over Bucky’s, keeping their hands over his heart.
> 
> “I’m going to kiss you.” Steve told him. “Is that okay?” it seemed important for him to ask. Bucky had not been touched without the intent of harm in a very long time.
> 
> Bucky closed his eyes. “Yes, God…yes that’s okay.” He leaned forward, their foreheads touching. “I miss you.” He whimpered, shaking his head.

Steve woke up at five that morning, turning over in his empty bed. He sighed, already annoyed with himself. His regret was immediate, wishing that he could turn back time and had asked Bucky to sleep in the same bed as him. He couldn’t believe himself really, he was supposed to be helping Bucky and all he could do was create more and more barriers. Steve told himself it was because he wanted Bucky to assimilate on his own, to come to terms with this new life slowly, to not push him more than he had to—but what if Steve was imagining all these reasons?

Hurrying out of bed, he went to his closet and grabbed a pair of black pants, they were closer to something like his old suit, which hung in the back—something else that Steve could not look at. He grabbed a t-shirt and some fingerless gloves and put them on, trying to remember where he had put his mask as he walked over to Bucky’s room.

“Bucky?” he asked softly, pushing open the door. He was unsurprised to see Bucky twitching in his bed, mumbles coming from his mouth. Trying not to let his sadness get the better of him, he walked over to Bucky and carefully placed a hand on the side of his face. “Bucky, we have to go.” He shook him ever so lightly.

Bucky’s eyes snapped open. Steve had no time to react.

“Bucky—”

He flipped Steve as though Steve weighed nothing, Bucky’s metal arm grabbing Steve’s throat and his human hand grabbing Steve’s arm, throwing him over his own body and onto the bed. Steve humphed, grunting as he felt the metal tighten around his throat.

“Bucky,” he croaked.

Bucky’s eyes were distant, wide and determined instead of afraid. He was a little closer to the killer than he was to Bucky Barnes. T’Challa’s voice sounded in his head, reminding him that even though the words would not put him into Winter Soldier mode, slipping up through causes such as this was something else entirely.

“Целевой приобретенный.” Bucky murmured. Steve was not up to par with his Russian, but he was pretty sure this had to do with a previous mission Bucky had been assigned.

“Bucky,” Steve choked. “It’s me,” instead of trying to pry Bucky off, he lifted one of his hands and put it on Bucky’s face. Bucky’s eyes nearly went feral, his nostrils flaring, but Steve kept it there. “It’s me pal. Just Steve.” His legs twitched as his body fought against the restraint of Bucky’s arm.

Slowly, like some kind of strange magic, Steve saw the transition from Winter Soldier to Bucky—something he thought he wouldn’t have to deal with again. He saw his eyes go back to the warmth they normally had, and his hand loosened on Steve’s throat. Steve coughed, turning his face to the side, Bucky moving off of him so quickly.

“Steve…” he whispered, shaking his head.

Steve sat up, rubbing his throat, as he stared at Bucky who was looking down at his hands. “It’s okay Bucky.”

“It’s okay?” Bucky asked, disgusted. “I nearly just killed you.” His chest was rising and falling rapidly, it reminded Steve of when he used to have asthma attacks.

“Not the first time.” Steve joked, halfheartedly.

“That’s not funny.” Bucky whispered. Steve watched sadly as Bucky’s human hand swept over his metal one, his fingers resting at the point where skin met metal, the ragged lines red and torn looking. “I want this off,” he whimpered, closing his eyes so he could force any tear away, presumably.

Steve got off the bed and slowly walked over to Bucky, but as he put out his arm, Bucky lifted a hand. “Don’t touch me,” he growled, his eyes terrified. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You’re Bucky,” Steve reminded him. “Not anything or anyone else. Just Bucky, and I’m just Steve. You won’t hurt me.”

Bucky closed his eyes and breathed in and out slowly. Steve let him have his space, as he wanted, and eventually Bucky opened his eyes, something inside of him seeming to settle. “If I ever hurt you like that again, you hurt me back.”

“No, Bucky.” Steve would never waver with that.

“Steve—”

“I said no. I won’t compromise my stance on that, not ever.”

“I’m not asking. I’m telling.”

“Since when do you give me orders?”

“Since when do you not follow orders?” Bucky shot back.

Steve stared at him, rolling his eyes. “You and I both know that it’s been a long time I don’t follow every rule. I do what’s right Bucky, and hurting you isn’t what is right.”

“I could kill you.”

“A lot of things can.” Steve shrugged.

“Is that it then?”  Bucky snarled. “Won’t sleep in the same bed as me, but you’re willing to die by my hand?”

Steve ignored the bed comment. “I made that decision when you were the Winter Soldier. What makes you think I would have changed my mind?”

Bucky glared at him. “You’re being an asshole.”

“I’m telling the truth. It’s not my fault if you don’t want to hear it.”

“Since when are you so…”

Steve shrugged. “You told me you wanted honesty, truth and all that. That’s what I’m giving you.” He sighed heavily, wanting this fight to just be over already. “Bucky, I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. I’m okay, see?” he touched his throat, which was a little tender, but not enough to warn Steve that he would have any future bruise. “I promise.”

Bucky stared at him, pain deep in his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

Steve didn’t know what else to say, so he said, “Me too.” He didn’t know if he was allowed to touch him yet, so he asked, “Bucky, if you’re not up to coming today—”

“You don’t want me there?” he asked immediately, his eyes growing wide with fear.

“I always want you.” Steve told him sadly.

“You didn’t want me in your bed last night.”

Steve sighed loudly, “ _Bucky_ ,” he rubbed his eyes tiredly. “I’m trying to give you space.”

“I don’t want space. Maybe if I didn’t keep going to bed so fucking…alone, I wouldn’t—” his sentence cut short as his throat seemed to close up. “Never mind.”

“Bucky, I—”

“I’m going to get dressed.” Bucky snapped, grabbing his elastic by the night stand, and tying his hair up in a messy bun. Steve took a small moment to appreciate how good that looked, before his heart sank to his stomach as he watched Bucky walk away from him.

 

* * *

 

 **Steve:** Tony, I need your help.

 **Tony:** Everyone does, cap. New throwaway phone?

 **Steve:** Yeah, how did you know it was me?

 **Tony:** You’re the only one besides me and Bruce that uses punctuation when you text. Your new shield is almost ready, by the way. You’re welcome.

 **Steve:** I thought I told you not to make me one.

 **Tony:** Now since when do I listen to you? So Cap, come on, it’s almost time for bed. What’s wrong?

 **Steve:** I have a question about PTSD.

 **Tony** : My favorite acquaintance

 **Steve** : Tony.

 **Tony** : This about Barnes?

 **Steve** : I don’t know how to help him.

 **Tony:** No good way to help Cap. Just gotta be with him. Whatever you need, he probably needs it too. You’re dealing with the same stuff.

 **Steve** : What if I don’t know what I need?

 **Tony:** I needed Pepper. I think you know what you need.

**Steve:**

**Tony:** I’m right, aren’t I?

 **Steve:** Goodnight, Tony.

 **Tony:** Captain

 

* * *

 

Steve put his phone away once Bucky came outside, smiling lightly at him. Bucky returned it but it was tight, laced with self-doubt and anger. Steve didn’t know that keeping them separated last night would bother him that much, and although he knew how to easily rectify that, it scared the daylights out of him. Everything with them was a memory now, and Steve was not sure how to be the other half that he used to know how to be without thinking. Fighting was one thing, being in a battle was easy. This though, just, _existing_ together, was something else entirely.

He was dressed in his simple mission clothes, all dark colors, and the vest that clung to his body in a tight way that Steve could not look away from. His hair was still tied up, some strands dangling down, and Steve had the urge to tuck them behind Bucky’s ears.

So he did.

He reached out, and Bucky’s eyes softened from the touch. Steve curled Bucky’s strand around his finger and tucked it behind Bucky’s ear. Instinct took over, and Bucky leaned into the touch, his eyes fluttering shut.

Steve whispered, “I don’t want to fight,”

“All couples fight.”

“Is that what we are?”

“It’s what we always were.”

“I’m under the impression that we were something more, actually.”

Bucky opened his eyes, looking at Steve with an expression that he could only describe as pure adoration and love. Of course, they hadn’t said those three words in quite some time. “I’m sorry, for before.”

“Don’t be. I’m sorry. I…I downplayed what you were going through, and that wasn’t fair of me. I’m just scared out of my mind here pal.”

“I know,” Bucky turned his head so he could kiss Steve’s palm, and he felt butterflies flutter in his stomach. “So am I, but we don’t have to be anymore, right?” he asked, and the way he phrased it made it sound like he was also trying to convince himself. “We’re together now, so please, _please_ Steve, try.” He shook his head, his metal hand coming up to hold Steve’s hand against his face. “I don’t think I can be real if I don’t have you.”

“You do have me.”

“You know what I mean.”

Steve did know what he meant. “Slowly.” Steve said. “We can…learn each other all over again.” He shrugged, smiling lightly. “That’s pretty romantic, actually.”

Bucky sighed in deep relief. “Thank you. So tonight…”

“We’ll sleep in the same bed.”

Bucky let his head drop forward. It hit Steve’s shoulder, and he shook lightly against Steve’s body. Steve wanted to curl his arms around Bucky—that was something he knew he could do, it was familiar and they had done it a million times before.

 _This is different,_ Steve thought, _you’re both the same, but you’re both different. That’s okay too._

Steve didn’t have a chance to do it, because the sound of a helicopter made itself known, which meant they couldn’t be just Steve and Bucky anymore.

“Here,” Steve went in his pockets and dug out two masks. “Put this on.”

Bucky pulled away and looked at the mask with a grin on his face. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

“Steve, come on,” Bucky shook his head as he put it on, fixing it appropriately. It was the same as Steve’s, black and only covered the space around his eyes. “This is ridiculous.”

“This is what being on the run is.” Steve retorted, putting on his own. “I don’t want either of us seen.”

“How many people besides me have metal arms? I’m pretty noticeable. You know, you’re eventually going to have to explain this whole ‘I’m not Captain America thing’ to me eventually.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve brushed him off, and Bucky pushed him playfully, and for a brief moment everything was perfect.

The helicopter landed, and was turned off. Apparently they weren’t departing right away. They both tugged their masks down so that they were around their necks instead, while the door opened and three people filed out.

Thor was the only one who looked different to Steve. Nat’s hair had been blonde for a while now, the only thing different about Sam was that he had some scruff, but Thor seemed leaner, and his hair was cut short. His armor was much different, he had no cape to wear now, and he was without a hammer.

His smile however, remained the same. It was booming, as much as the rest of him, and it automatically put a smile on Steve’s face. It was impossible not to have one around Thor.

“Steve!” Thor put out his hands, walking over and hugging Steve tightly. “My friend, it has been too long. I have missed our long talks about galaxies, philosophy and religions.”

“It’s good to see you.” Steve chuckled, patting him on the back. “Where’s the hammer?”

“It is a long, and tiring tale my friend. Perhaps for another time, when we do not have a mission hanging over our heads.”

Bucky had his arms crossed, and was narrowing his eyes. “Who are you?”

“I am Thor of Asgard.” Thor walked over to Bucky, smiling wide. “Human customs dictate that when meeting someone new, I am to shake their hand. However, I know enough about James Barnes to know that I should not make such a forward move without permission.”

Bucky’s mouth twitched, and Steve laughed, his hand reaching for Sam who walked forward and took it, shaking it fondly. That was another thing about Thor, Steve reminded himself as Natasha walked forward and also embraced him; he was always blunt with the truth.

Bucky seemed to like that. “Bucky.” He shook Thor’s hand. He nodded at Natasha and Sam. “Hey.”

Natasha looked over the small villa. “Well, if I had known you two were settled and cozy, maybe I would have joined.”

Sam chuckled, crossing his arms. “Somehow, I don’t think there’s enough room for any of us in there.”

Bucky’s grin lengthened a little. “No, there isn’t.”

Steve rubbed his chin. “So, what’s the details of the mission?”

Sam grinned, “The usual. Aliens, and myths and all that.”

Thor sighed tiredly. “A relic has been stolen from my realm, one that in the wrong hands can end disastrously. It is Gungnir, the spear of Odin. It is a weapon that always hits his target true. It never misses.”

Steve nodded. “Who stole it?”

“That does not matter as much as who has it now.”

Natasha continued for him. “Superhero haters,” she rolled her eyes. “Specifically against the ones like Scarlet Witch, or Thor. The ones with powers. Anyone can build a machine, or pay someone to, but for people who are born a certain way—”

“Wait,” Steve put up his hand. “Born? I thought she and her brother were genetically enhanced.”

Sam shook his head sadly. “It’s like the cancer gene. Sometimes all it needs it a push, and it’s awakened.”

“Mutants,” Natasha said. “The world is filled with them, and they’re better at hiding than anyone gives them credit for.”

Bucky stared at her. “But…”

“But, some people do know about them, and want them dead. You know how this world is, as soon as you’re different, you have a target on your back.”

“So,” Steve tried to set up everything in the right way. “People found a way to get to Asgard, to steal a spear that never misses, to wipe out everyone who is different than them. Mass genocide. Sounds familiar.” He looked towards Bucky who smiled sadly at him. “So what’s the plan?”

“It’s a bunch of idiot rich kids,” Sam said. “They’re holding up in a mansion in Vienna.”

Bucky stared at them. “You’re telling me _kids_ stole the spear from a whole different realm?”

“Kids find themselves in magical situations all the time by accident. These ones took it a step too far.”

“I’m not killing kids.”

Thor answered him immediately, clapping a big hand down on Bucky’s shoulder. “You are a good man, and we would never ask you to do such a thing. All we are doing is retrieving the weapon.”

Natasha nodded. “I was there yesterday, the people who took it, they’re young people, in their twenties. I’m more worried about their security guards than I am about them. The fight will be with them, not that it will be much of a fight.”

Steve frowned. “Security guards have guns.”

Sam nodded. “There’s a few of them too. I don’t know who these people are, but they’re rich enough they need to be protected.”

“Gang members?”

“Maybe.”

“Did they kill anyone yet?”

Thor’s eyes darkened. “No, but they do have a hostage, and what they are doing to the girl is as despicable as murder.”

“So,” Natasha summed up. “Two dozen guards, some assholes, and a hostage. What’s the plan?” she looked over to Steve, his stomach churning as she looked to him for guidance.

Steve didn’t want Bucky in the fight, but he didn’t know how to avoid that. “Well, we only need one person for the hostage situation. That should be Sam. Natasha is the quietest, but she’s the best at hand to hand combat, we need her for the security guards. Plus, when Sam has the hostage, he can fly her out of there without waiting for us.”

Thor nodded. “I will retrieve the spear then,”

Steve nodded. “Natasha can help you,” he looked over at Bucky. “You and I will cover Sam as far as we can. If we get separated, you keep fighting. Don’t look back. We get the spear, get the girl, and get out.”

Bucky glared at him. “I always look back.” Steve understood what that meant—Bucky didn’t plan on being separated, didn’t plan on not looking back for Steve. Steve was a fool for suggesting it to begin with.

“Well then,” Thor clasped his hands together. “Let us venture off!” he put his large arm around Bucky and hauled him forward. “I like you very much.”

Sam bumped Steve playfully with his elbow. “I think you have some competition.”

Steve grinned. “I’m not too worried.”

 

* * *

 

Needless to say, things were a disaster.

“This isn’t going well!” Bucky exclaimed over the distance as he and Steve hid behind two pillars.

“You don’t say!” Steve called back, shaking his head.

Everything had gone wrong. They had breached the house well enough, but as it turned out, they were getting into more than they had bargained for in this fight. This was not just a fight between some former Avengers and some bodyguards—magic played a bigger part in this than they had anticipated. Thor had yelled the situation into the ear pieces they were using. What he called the Svartálfar, had taken control of the minds of everyone in the house. They were dark elves, and from what Thor suspected, when the teenagers unknowingly found themselves in another realm, they were quickly taken control of by magic. The stealing of the spear was no accident, and this was just one giant ambush in order to get Thor of Asgard and his comrades in one place, to kill them.

“Sam,” Steve pressed his index finger to his ear piece. “Sam, did you get the hostage out?”

“Yeah—yeah, she’s safe. Have her hidden real good, I’m coming back in to help.”

“Thanks,” Steve sighed, looking across at Bucky. “What do we do?”

Bucky looked torn. “Thor,” he yelled into his com. “Thor, how do we kill the fucking elves man?”

“Same as you would kill anything else.” Thor grunted from wherever he was in the mansion. “Strike them in the heart, and once they all fall their magic will cease over those in the house.”

“They should be arrested anyway,” Nat spat into the com. “What they did to the girl is despicable.”

“We’ll deal with that later,” Steve said. He looked over to Bucky and frowned at him. “I’m sorry Bucky.”

Bucky looked back at him, the ghost of every kill haunting him. “This is war, right?” He did not give Steve a chance to answer though, because he bolted from behind where he hid, throwing himself into battle.

Steve swore under his breath and followed Bucky immediately, and as bullets and magic tore past him, he wished for the first time in a long while that he had his shield with him. The dark elves were nothing spectacular to look at—purple skin and long hair with lips sewn shut and black eyes. There were too many of them, they were vastly outnumbered and Steve had no idea how they were supposed to come out of this one with no harm.

Luckily for Bucky and Steve, they were excellent fighters, but they were having a very difficult time trying to get to the dark elves since the security guards were keeping them safe. Magic blasted forward and hit Bucky, but his arm protected him. Whatever was supposed to get through human flesh was stopped, and Steve thanked the universe. Bucky ran forward quickly, throwing himself heavily onto one of the elves, his metallic hand grabbing the throat of one of the elves. A security guard put a gun to Bucky’s head, and he quickly reacted throwing his elbow out—the elf took the moment of vulnerability and with its long claw like fingernails grabbed Bucky’s human arm, puncturing his flesh. Bucky yelled out in pain, and Steve made for him, but was tackled sideways by a security guard. He grunted, head-butting the man, and punching him in the stomach, throwing him away.

“We need help!” Steve said into the com, trying to run for Bucky. “Sam, Nat, I—” he was cut off, unable to move. He looked around him, and started to feel panic rise in his chest as he was being levitated, a dark elf walking towards him, a voice speaking in his mind.

 _Steve Rogers,_ the elf said, tilting its head, its hand raised—Steve felt something invisible grasp at his throat, _are you ready to die?_

Steve used to be, but now that Bucky was here, with him, he wasn’t. Before Steve could answer, or the elf could kill him, there was a miraculous bolt of lightning that shocked the whole floor, thunder booming as the doors to their floor flew open and Thor walked in, his eyes white and his skin literally cackling with the power of thunder and lightning. By his side were Nat and Sam, Nat already firing, and Sam taking off immediately. The elf was hit by Thor, who was holding Odin’s spear and began to strike immediately, and Steve dropped to the ground, choking out his breath. He had no time to recover though, because when he tried to get up, a knife made contact with his shoulder. He yelled out in pain, and it caught the attention of Bucky, who looked over at him.

Steve registered the darkness of his eyes, and he panicked, “Bucky, no—”

Bucky didn’t hear him. He grabbed the spear from Thor without question and without a word sprinted towards Steve, stabbing the elf through the face. Steve felt the blood spatter on him, and watched it hit Bucky who did not flinch. He pulled it out and began to lose himself to the fight, the spear being thrown around so easily, Bucky hitting every single elf. Suddenly the battle began to lessen in difficulty, Sam knocking out the security guards and safely pulling them to the side, with the help of Natasha, while Thor and Bucky took out the elves. Steve couldn’t move, he just watched as Bucky mercilessly killed them all without a second thought—Thor with two swords and Bucky with the spear of Odin.

That’s all it had taken. Just Steve to get a flesh wound for Bucky to become this dangerous. They were supposed to kill the elves anyway, but somehow the fact that Bucky was able to take out more than half on his own made it so much worse to witness. All with that deadpan expression.

Before Steve knew it, the ground was littered with passed out security guards and dead elves. Bucky had blood all over him, and Thor had less, more of a quick slasher instead of the brutal way Bucky went in, forcing the spear in and watching the life leave their eyes.

Sam walked over to Steve, bending down to pick him up. “You okay man?” he touched Steve’s shoulder delicately, but Steve didn’t register. “Steve, are you okay?”

Steve nodded. “I’m fine, I’m okay.”

Bucky walked over to Steve, dropping the spear without thinking. He didn’t seem to care that they were in front of people, he reached out and grabbed Steve’s face in his hands, looking over him carefully. “Is it just your shoulder?”

“It’s a flesh wound Buck.”

Bucky checked him over completely anyway, no one moving or speaking as he did. He observed the wound and then pushed Steve’s growing hair away from his face, touching him so gently that it broke Steve’s heart. Bucky whispered to him, “I won’t let anyone hurt you ever again.”

 

* * *

 

As Steve got out of the shower later that night, he looked in the mirror and tried to process the day. His body was exhausted. It had been a massive effort to take a shower without wetting his stitches, but in two days that would be less of an issue. Thankfully no major damage had been done, and Nat had patched him up in no time. Thor had taken the spear back to Asgard and Sam was making way for Clint’s house to lay low for a while with Nat tailing him.

Steve was not an idiot. He knew that even though Bucky’s Hydra triggers were erased from his mind, that did not mean that he could not become something else in battle. Then again, Bucky seemed to be completely aware of himself the whole time—he hadn’t gone Winter Soldier, he had just taken everything on himself. Steve could not really blame him, could he? He would have done the same if he had thought Bucky was in serious danger. It just, made him sad, to see Bucky put himself in danger so easily to protect Steve. He could have gotten himself killed.

He sighed, wondering if either of them would have to deal with nightmares tonight.

He grabbed his boxers from the ground and slipped them on, not bothering with anything else. He would have to sleep on his stomach tonight which was a pain, but he would have to make do.

Turning off the light in the bathroom he made way for his bedroom, swallowing as he stepped inside. For a moment, he watched Bucky who was laying on his side, his eyes half open, his hair undone from his bun now messy around him. His human hand was under his head, while his metal one was in front of him on the pillow. The blanket was strewn over him lazily, his chest on display.

He was so beautiful, Steve thought. This moment of complete serenity, just Bucky resting, waiting for Steve to come with him into bed.

Steve made up his mind in that moment. Every fear he had since Bucky had arrived left his body.

“Bucky,” Steve was so tired. So, so tired. Of the day, of fighting against and alongside Bucky. He was tired of waiting, and wanting from afar and being afraid of everything that could happen.

Bucky looked at Steve, sitting up in bed, his eyes concerned. “How’s your shoulder?” he asked immediately. When Steve didn’t answer, Bucky’s eyebrows furrowed. “Steve?”

Steve walked forward slowly, Bucky’s face twisting in confusion as Steve continued to stay silent. He sat on the bed, lifting his hand up and putting it on Bucky’s face. Bucky’s eyes softened, but they were slightly guarded.

“What are you doing?” he whispered, fear evident in his tone. His human hand shook considerably as he placed it on Steve’s chest, a sigh falling from him from the skin to skin content. Steve took his free hand and pressed it over Bucky’s, keeping their hands over his heart.

“I’m going to kiss you.” Steve told him. “Is that okay?” it seemed important for him to ask. Bucky had not been touched without the intent of harm in a very long time.

Bucky closed his eyes. “Yes, God…yes that’s okay.” He leaned forward, their foreheads touching. “I miss you.” He whimpered, shaking his head. “Just…” he swallowed, his metal hand on Steve’s hip. “Slow, please. I’m…” he didn’t finish his sentence, but Steve understood. They had to do this slow so Bucky could get used to it. This was their first kiss all over again—except this one was them coming back from something, instead of starting something.

Silence filled the room, save for the sound of their breathing. Bucky’s was a little louder, anxiety clear over him as Steve took his time, positioning his head so their lips were a centimeter apart. Steve wasn’t kissing him yet, but the ghost of his lips was enough to clearly make Bucky begin to shake. Steve felt the tension in Bucky’s human hand as it clenched against his skin. His eyes were shut tightly, and Steve wondered, as he looked at him lovingly, what Bucky had to tell himself to make this okay. If he had to remind himself that this was _Steve_ and Steve would never hurt him, not in any lifetime.

Steve didn’t want Bucky to think anymore.

He closed the distance between them, their lips finally meeting. It was everything Steve remembered and better—it was Bucky, his Bucky, it was _home._

Bucky’s lips were so incredibly soft. It didn’t matter that hours ago Bucky had blood on him; Hydra and Shield didn’t matter—the Avengers didn’t matter. It was Bucky and Steve. For a moment it was just that, it was just their lips on each other, testing the waters of what they could be again. Steve and Bucky’s hands were twined now, their fingers digging into each other.

Steve pressed his lips against Bucky’s a little harder now—they weren’t using tongue, which was nice. They were just moving their lips over each other, finding their bearings. It was Bucky moving forward, desperate for more contact, and Steve smiling into every single kiss. It was Steve’s hand moving into Bucky’s hair, and Bucky sighing into the kiss. It was Steve feeling grounded for the first time in his life since he came back out of the ice. It was Bucky’s metal hand twitching—something Steve didn’t think could happen unless Bucky told it to.

They pulled apart, and Bucky’s breathing was ridiculous, he was panting, his eyes still closed.

“Buck,” Steve whispered, kissing him once more. “You okay?”

Bucky opened his eyes slowly, and Steve’s heart somersaulted when he realized Bucky’s eyes were glassy.

“Bucky, what’s wrong?” he asked.

Bucky shook his head. “Nothing,” he murmured, a tear finally falling. “I’m happy.”

Steve smiled, and Bucky smiled back radiantly, as they closed the distance once more, their lips meeting for the next hour.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please leave a comment they keep me going !!! and also the description of them falling asleep/wake up scene is next chapter  
> i hope you all enjoyed xx


	4. babydoll, pal, stevie

 

When Steve woke up the next morning, he thought he was still dreaming. It seemed like a surreal enough experience for him to assume such a thing. The bedroom was swimming in a beautiful sunlight, not bright enough to hurt Steve’s eyes as it came through the windows, but just the right amount to put the most aesthetically pleasing light over Bucky who was laying across from him. Bucky was already awake, and Steve’s heart skipped a beat as he focused his gaze on Bucky. He was staring at Steve, with a tiny smile on his face, his metal hand tucked underneath his cheek and the other in front of him, delicately placed over Steve’s. His gorgeous eyes were soft, his hair tucked behind his ears.

“How long have you been awake for?” Steve asked, moving closer slightly.

“Not long,” Bucky assured him. “A few minutes.”

Steve stretched out his legs, groaning. “You could have woken me up.”

“There was no need for that _._ _Arăți frumos dimineața_ ,”

Steve grinned at him. “What does that mean? That’s not Russian.”

“No,” Bucky’s grin widened slightly. “Romanian. It means that you look beautiful in the morning.”

“You always were a sweet talker.”

“I’m not _flirting,_ I’m trying to give you a compliment.”

“Don’t lie to me, Barnes. I know you just want to get into my pants.”

“Well,” Bucky laughed, moving closer to Steve, their noses brushing. “That’s a given. Are you going to give me a good morning kiss?”

“No,” Steve laughed, pushing Bucky away. Bucky’s metal arm shot out and grabbed Steve, as he smiled playfully, pulling him close. Steve was unable to resist that kind of pull. “Come on Buck, I have morning breath.”

“You don’t, I promise.” Bucky nipped at Steve’s throat, Steve _felt_ Bucky smile against his neck as he pressed a kiss there. “Come on babydoll, give me a kiss.”

Steve laughed loudly, and Bucky’s eyes shone from it as he looked at him, and Steve never felt more in love than in this moment. “Babydoll?”

“What?” Bucky gaped. “I used to call you that all the time!”

“It’s 2017 Buck, no one says that anymore.”

“Since when did I give a shit what people do or say?” Bucky said, ducking back down to kiss Steve’s neck. This was so easy, and so playful, it was hard to believe that they were two recovering soldiers. It was like nothing bad had ever happened to them to begin with. “So?”

Steve couldn’t resist. He gave up without a fight, his hands reaching for Bucky’s face, pulling him up and bringing their lips together. He was unsurprised to find that as their bodies pressed together, Bucky was hard—that was something Steve could have guessed by his pleadings for a morning make out session. Steve tried not to think about it, not wanting to push Bucky too far. They made out in a fever though, their tongues pressing against each other eagerly, Bucky breathing Steve in, his hands exploring Steve’s naked torso. It was everything he had not had for so long, it was Steve doing the same—his fingers gliding over the muscles that laced Bucky’s chest, arms, moving to his lower back.

Every kiss was both urgent and soft at the same time. Bucky was getting excited, and it was overwhelming Steve. His brain was short circuiting, his skin was on fire as Bucky pushed Steve onto his back, their chests sliding against each other, Bucky purposely rolling his hips hard against Steve’s. The stimulation made everything in Steve’s head blank.

Steve choked on a breath, having to move his lips away. He grabbed Bucky’s hips, wincing, “Bucky,” he groaned.

“No?” Bucky asked, fear evident in his expression.

“No, I…I mean yes,” Steve’s hands were shaking. “Just, slow, okay? It’s been…it’s been real long, for both of us.”

“I know,” Bucky kissed Steve’s cheeks, and then his nose. “I know. I just, I need it. I need _you_ so badly, it’s killing me. I know you want to go slow but just this, okay? Nothing more than this,” he rolled his hips again to show Steve, who was slowly becoming hard from the friction. “I want to remember how it feels.”

“I want this too Buck,” Steve assured him. “Missed you.”

Steve nodded, his eyes fluttering shut as he kissed Bucky’s neck. His hands moved down to Bucky’s butt, rolling his hips, pushing up, their erections brushing against each other hard. Bucky let out a moan that made Steve shiver, and Steve moved his hands up, wrapping his arms around Bucky, keeping him close, pulling him to Steve’s chest. He was nearly completely horizontal over Steve now, thrusting lazily. They resumed kissing as best they could, but with the friction that came, it was hard to continue. Bucky ended up with his face pressed against the crook of Steve’s neck, his human hand in Steve’s hair, grasping it desperately, while the other was on the headboard. Steve held him tight, his face pressed into Bucky’s hair, biting his lip so he could focus on the beautiful moans that Bucky was eliciting.

This friction was so intense, so wonderful, Steve knew that no matter how slow they were going it was not going to last long. His skin was on fire, the hotness from Bucky’s body making him feel like he was overheating. Every nerve seemed to be a thousand times more sensitive. This thrusting, their bodies moving together like this was somehow everything and not enough all at once. Steve wanted to be _inside_ to lose himself, but if this was all Bucky wanted for now, it would be good, and _God damn it_ if this wasn’t heaven, Steve didn’t know what was.

Bucky whimpered, “Fuck, Steve, fuck,” he pressed his face deeper. “I’m so close baby.”

Steve’s head was spinning. The words fell out of him before he could help himself. “I love you,” he whispered in Bucky’s ear. “I love you, I love you so much Buck.”

Bucky stilled, a sob coming from him as he came from the words, shaking profusely in Steve’s arms. “ _Ohmygodohmygod,_ ” he breathed, rutting against Steve towards the end of his climax, the overstimulation and the moans and the “ _baby, baby, yes,_ ” sending Steve over the edge only seconds later.

They stayed like that for a moment, Steve holding Bucky, not at all minding the wetness of his boxers. His eyes were threatening to close again, but instead of that, Bucky whispered in his neck, “Did you mean it?”

Steve smiled into Bucky’s hair. “Of course.” He hissed him lazily, inhaling his scent. He was high on this—on this love. “I love you Bucky, I always have.”

Bucky moved so their faces were aligned, their lips brushing against each other. “I love you too,” his voice shook lightly, and Steve tightened his hold. “I love you too.” He said again, a bit stronger now—as though Steve’s arms around him made his voice stronger.

They slowly moved apart after another lazy kiss, Steve about to get up to clean himself, but Bucky stopped him. “Bucky, we’re disgusting.”

“Here,” Bucky reached over Steve, who kissed his chest and grinned as Bucky chuckled. He lay back down with some tissues, handing some to Steve and they both quickly cleaned themselves. “We’ll shower after, I’m so comfortable.”

“Fine, fine,” Steve grinned. They were close enough that their noses were almost touching. “So, Romanian, are you going to teach me?”

“Maybe if you’re nice,” Bucky smiled. “What languages have you learnt, all this time you’ve been awake?”

“Not as many as you. I have some French under my belt, a little bit of Spanish and Italian.”

“Fancy,”

“You speak a dozen languages Bucky.”

“A little more actually.”  Bucky grinned. “I really like Romanian though, it was easy for me to learn. I don’t like speaking Russian very much.”

“As long as you don’t speak about me behind my back in different languages.”

“Don’t worry Stevie, countries around the world only have nice things to say about Steve Rogers. Not so much about the Winter Soldier.”

“Well, I don’t know about this Winter Soldier,” Steve caressed his face lovingly, pressing a tender kiss against his lips. “I only know a Bucky Barnes. As far as I’m concerned, he’s the best there is.”

“I think you’re a little bit biased.”

“Now why would you say that?” he laughed as Bucky rolled his eyes but not without a smile, moving and tucking himself against Steve’s body. Steve put his arm around him, his fingers running lines over Bucky’s shoulder. “I am completely objective.”

Bucky snorted and slapped his hand playfully on Steve’s torso. “Liar.”

“Okay, okay, so Romanian, what else are you going to teach me?”

“I can teach you to take a better shot.”

“Hey!” Steve tugged on Bucky’s hair. “I was always a good shot.”

“I’m a sharpshooter pal,”

“Babydoll, pal, Stevie, I love all these pet names.”

“You know, actually Tony told me—”

“Tony?” Steve asked, pulling back so they could look at each other properly. “When did you talk to Tony?”

Bucky shrugged. “He checked up on me in Wakanda a few times, when he came for my arm.” He looked at Steve curiously. “Is that okay?”

“No, its fine, it’s great.” Steve mumbled. “I didn’t know, but it’s a good thing. I mean, that makes me real happy. I want us to all be…” he shook his head, rubbing his beard. It surprised him for a moment, that it was there, he kept forgetting about it. Most people didn’t, but Steve was not used to it yet, and only now he noticed the red marks around Bucky’s lips from where he had given him beard burn from their make out session. Somehow this conversation about Tony and him remembering he had facial hair growing seemed very important.

“Steve?”

“Sorry,” Steve sighed, going back on his side, so they could stare into each other’s eyes once more. “I’m glad, really. I want us all to be friends. You and Tony, that makes me happy. It makes me have hope.”

“You know me,” Bucky told him. “I’m all about bringing around hope. Anyway, so yeah Tony told me something, about nicknames, or pet names, but I don’t know if it was true.”

Steve’s mouth twitched. “What did he tell you?”

Bucky was trying to hide his grin. “I don’t know if I should say it. It’s a little embarrassing.”

“If you love me you’ll tell me.”

“You know you won’t be able to play that card every time you just want to get your way.”

“We’ll see about that.”

Bucky chuckled again before beginning his story. “He said that one time you were drunk and you said to him that you like to be called daddy—”

“God!” Steve laughed loudly again, and Bucky laughed under his breath. “Jesus, Buck and you believed him?”

“Well I don’t know!” Bucky retaliated. “I don’t know what things you’ve been into in the time that we have been, you know, apart. Or who you did those things with…”

“Is that your not so subtle way of asking if I accidentally ever slept with Tony?”

Bucky shrugged. “Or non-accidentally.”

“There’s never been anyone but you, Bucky.”

Bucky’s smile was radiant, and Steve felt his heart overwhelm again with the intensity of the love he had for Bucky. He began to caress him tenderly once more, looking into his eyes with what he hoped was as much love as he felt. Bucky’s eyes softened continuously with every brush of Steve’s fingers, looking completely at peace. War was a long forgotten thing.

“The beard,” Bucky said, touching Steve’s chin. “You don’t want to be Captain America anymore, do you?”

Steve was momentarily shaken by the fact that Bucky knew Steve so well, even after having lost his memory for some time. “I think I’m better at being Steve Rogers then Captain America.”

“Steve,” Bucky sighed softly. “You know, that’s what you never understood.”

“What?”

“You don’t owe the world anything,” he explained. “You never did. The world expected you to be something, and you rose to that because you like to help people. You were always Steve Rogers first and Captain America second. If they can’t understand that, they don’t deserve you at all.”

Steve smiled softly, moving forward and putting his forehead against Bucky’s. “Thing is Buck, I can’t bother thinking about the rest of the world. Right now, I just want it to be me and you.”

“It’ll always be me and you.” Bucky promised him, moving in for another kiss.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope you enjoyed this very, very soft chapter with our boys, please leave a comment if you did :) xx
> 
> next chapter, a therapy session, a bloody scuffle in a market, and another step to healing


	5. akintola

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warnings:
> 
> blood, violence, mention of suicide, bucky's ptsd

“ _Ciao, quanto sono questi_?” Bucky asked handing the small package of peaches to the person on the other side of the counter. He already had some plums, figs, and mango in one bag, but he had been unable to leave the market without finally bringing home some peaches for Steve.

“ _Quattro,_ ” the woman from the other side smiled back.

“ _Grazie_ ,” Bucky went in his pocket and handed the woman four euros, taking the peaches from her with another smile before he put them in the bag with the other fruit.

It was early, the market opened at seven in the town. Bucky was hoping he could come down with Steve, so they could spend the morning together walking through the town. He thought it would have been nice, comforting, holding Steve’s hand and walking through the romantic streets of Italy. It would have to wait for another day though, as when Bucky had woken up, Steve looked so blissful and in a deep sleep that Bucky didn’t have it in him to wake him.

The sun was shining, there was a surprising amount of bustle around for this early in the morning. Bucky felt so good, he hadn’t had a nightmare in two nights, and had only slipped up once in the house. There had been a loud crash the day before—Steve was trying to fix the sink (he succeeded) but in the process he had slipped up, and the sound made Bucky slip into soldier mode. He had grabbed a long knife from the kitchen and stood ready, his eyes alert. Steve had to talk him out of it slowly, but Bucky was okay after that.

Bucky looked over some used books, smiling. His Italian was fluent, and Steve’s was pretty good from the way he was talking to the maid yesterday, but he knew Steve’s French and Spanish were much better. He grabbed two books, thinking it would be nice for him and Steve to practice together and handed the man ten euros, continuing his walk.

Steve slipped up less than Bucky. He was more aware of his body, and had better ways to cope and keep his head straight. When Steve needed a moment, he closed his eyes and if Bucky was near him would hold his hand, but mostly Steve would just sit down and look at his hands, forcing himself to remember that he was in the present. He was always quiet when it happened—even back in the day. Bucky had only seen him slip up once since he had regained his memory, but back in the war even then, Bucky was always worse than Steve.

Bucky also knew that Steve underplayed his pain, he might be able to come back to himself, but Bucky knew that it still hurt Steve to remember.

One day, these wars would be over, and so would the nightmares.

Unfortunately, it was not today. The peace left him quickly.

Bucky heard the bullet before he felt it.

It was a good thing he did, he managed to turn and bring his arm up, blocking his face, the bullet hitting it. Bucky’s eyes grew wide and fear shot through him as he immediately began to run. He swore under his breath when the bullets began to flow freely now from an unknown source, people shouting in the streets. Bucky turned a corner, nearly slipping but grabbed hold of a pole and straightened himself.

A shout caught his attention and Bucky looked over his shoulder instead of continuing to run. His heart stopped in his chest when he saw a small boy bleeding out onto the street, a bullet having gone through his stomach.

Bucky saw him then.

Helmut Zemo, the man who had tried to bring the Avengers down was there. Bucky’s mind was racing, this man was supposed to be locked up, how the fuck would he have been able to escape? Unless there was an inside help.

Not that Bucky could think very long about any of it right now.

He ran forward, his arm flying forward to protect him again when the bullets started flying. He yelled and tackled Helmut, grunting and immediately going for the gun. His metal arm was a thousand times stronger, and he yelled quickly out in the streets to the very few people who had decided to stay and watch,

“ _Vai! Uscire di qui!_ ” Bucky shouted, taking the gun and throwing it away. People were leaving, thankfully—it eased a small part of Bucky’s anxieties. At least there would be no more causalities; he hoped that little boy was being brought to hospital.

The man punched Bucky hard in the face and brought his knee up to Bucky’s groin. Bucky elbowed him back and grabbed the man’s throat.

“Why are you here?” he snapped.

Zemo snarled, “This was my last chance to bring justice. You are not an innocent man,”

“I’m trying to be.”

“I’m here to correct that,” he lay his arms out by his sides, and smiled up at Bucky. “Kill me.”

Bucky’s heart stopped in his chest. Killing aliens and elves was one thing. Killing a human was another. Even though all of them were things that were very much alive, half the time, killing those things didn’t seem _real_ to Bucky. It was magic, and during that time he was able to forget what he had to do.

This was different.

“I will not kill you.”

“If you don’t, I will just do this again,” Zemo told him with a sick smile. “I will kill a thousand people just to get to you.”

Bucky’s metal arm tightened, his heart beating wildly in his chest. Fear creeped up in him with what had to happen, what he was realizing that he had no choice to do “What do you want from me?” he exclaimed. “I’ve done nothing to you!”

“I came here to die, soldier. I’m ready. Kill me.”

“I…” Bucky shook his head. The moment he loosened his grip on Zemo, another shot rang out and Bucky flinched, but his eyes saw the whole thing. A bullet blew through Zemo’s brain, blood and brain splattering Bucky everywhere. He held his breath, the violence of it burned fresh into his brain. There was an Italian officer asking him to let go, and that it was okay, he could move now, he was safe.

But Bucky wasn’t safe.

There was blood over his face, and a dead body underneath him and nothing was okay.

 

* * *

 

“Bucky, you’re ho— _Bucky_?”

Bucky shut the door behind him, looking at Steve tiredly. There was a woman on the couch but Bucky didn’t have it in him to register who it was or why the lady was here. All he saw was Steve, except Steve wasn’t _Steve_ , Bucky was somewhere else entirely, he was lost, he was gone, he was smaller now, and Steve was wearing a white shirt and tan pants and the beard seemed all wrong somehow.

“You didn’t have a beard,” Bucky mumbled.

Steve was in the middle of rushing forward to him when he paused, “What?”

“When you saved me,” Bucky’s eyebrows furrowed together. “Me and my men, from the base. You didn’t have a beard. Did you? I…I thought it was a dream, I thought I was dead and you were my heaven, so maybe I’m not remembering it properly.”

“Bucky,” Steve walked forward slowly. “Buck, baby, you have blood all over you. What happened, are you hurt?”

“No,” Bucky looked down at his hands, the metal arm glinting from the sunlight, red streamed all over it. He wanted to rip it off himself.

“Bucky, are you okay?”

Bucky closed his eyes. “No,”

“Can I touch you?”

Bucky wasn’t sure if he nodded, but he had to assume that he did, because Steve’s gentle, warm hands were pulling him towards the bathroom. Bucky opened his eyes and let himself be pulled, having no fight in him.

“What happened?” Steve’s voice was firm but soft somehow, all at once. He heard the water go on, and felt his clothes begin to be removed, but none of it made sense to Bucky. He felt Steve’s fingers move over his skin, but none of the same feelings he usually got from it. He couldn’t stop seeing the bullet, the blood, the way Zemo suddenly just stopped living.

Bucky told Steve exactly what happened, and he assumed Steve was mad because his hands tightened and he let out a loud exhale to keep himself calm.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky mumbled.

“You’re not at fault,” Steve grabbed Bucky’s face in his hands, and Bucky looked into his eyes, but he didn’t feel like he was present. His entire body was numb, he wished he could feel Steve better, he wished he could return the look Steve was giving him, but the blood was so heavy on his face and all he wanted to do was sleep.

“Steve,” Bucky said as Steve pulled away to check the water.

Steve looked over at him, worry plain in his eyes. “Yeah, Buck?”

“Tell me you love me.”

Steve moved forward again and ran a hand through Bucky’s hair tenderly, “I love you.” He took Bucky’s hand and helped him get into the shower. Bucky watched Steve get in after him with his clothes still on, closing his eyes as Steve washed him with tender hands. The soap and hot water was such a release for Bucky, his muscles untightening from every drop.

So Bucky stood there and let Steve wash all the blood off him, not for the first time in his life.

When it was over, it was a genuine shock to Bucky. He only realized it when Steve was pulling a shirt over Bucky’s head, and pushing his wet hair away from his face. He hadn’t lost track of a period of time for very long, it happened a lot when he was the asset, and once in Wakanda, but it pained him to know he had just lost time with Steve.

His eyes welled up with familiar tears, and he shut them tightly.

“Please stop touching me,” Bucky whispered.

Steve complied immediately. “What do you need Bucky?” there was no hurt in his voice, for which Bucky was glad. This was not becuase he didn't want Steve touching him, he just couldn't handle it right now. 

“I’m tired.” He whispered. His head was so loud, he wished he could have bounced back as easily from this as he did from the mission with Thor. He wished it wasn’t Zemo who had died—if it had been a stranger it would have been easier for Bucky to separate himself from the situation. Like this, with it being Zemo, it was a direct connection to the Winter Soldier.

So every memory was scratching at the surface.

There was a knock at the door and Bucky turned towards it robotically, Steve walking over to it and opening it. Bucky saw the woman clearly now, but had forgotten that she had been in the house to begin with.

“Bucky,” the woman said—she was pretty, the Wakandan therapist that was assigned to Bucky. She was a little shorter than him, her hair was braided today instead of curly, and she had a soft smile on her face. Her eyes were brown and beautiful, warm. “Do you remember who I am?”

“Dr. Akintola,” Bucky nodded.

“I’m here for a session Bucky,”

Steve interrupted, “I don’t know if that’s such a good idea right now.”

Bucky shook his head. “It’s okay Steve. I think it’s better if I do it now. It just happened.” Without another thought he walked out of the bathroom and sat on the couch. Dr. Akintola took the chair facing him, and Steve was about to leave them to it but Bucky called out,

“Steve,” Bucky murmured. “You can stay.”

Steve looked at the doctor. “Is that okay?”

She nodded with a smile. “Whatever Bucky wants is good with me.”

Steve didn’t respond but walked over and sat next to Bucky, still not touching him as her Bucky’s request. Before the doctor could say anything, Bucky launched into the tale of what had happened to him once more. Part of him felt like he was doing this much too fast, and that he should take some time to himself, but a bigger part of him wanted to just get it over with.

Steve and Akintola both listened intently, but she did not write down any notes as she normally did. Steve sat with his hands clenched on his knees, but Bucky couldn’t look at his face.

When he finished his story he looked at Akintola, “So fix me,” he begged.

She smiled sadly at him, and Steve’s hand twitched. “You know that’s not how it works.”

“I need it to,” Bucky told her urgently, some of the feeling coming back to his body. “Things have been going well with me and Steve,” he looked at him, feeling the anxiety in his body. “Tell her,”

Steve looked pained. “Bucky…”

“If she doesn’t fix this what if it makes everything harder? We were doing so well,” he spoke quickly, like he didn’t have enough time to finish what he was saying. “This is going to push everything back, it’s going to make it harder. I know I didn’t ask you to touch me now, but when I do normally you’re always afraid and now it’s going to be worse you’re not going to touch me because you’ll be afraid I’ll be somewhere else—”

“Buck…”

“Bucky,” Akintola said calmly, coming in when she saw that Bucky was losing himself to his words. “I think you need to have more faith in not only Steve, but in yourself.”

Bucky looked back at her. “I’m not lying,” he snapped. “He’s going to see all the blood and that he had to _wash me_ …”

Steve shook his head. “I don’t care about that.”

Akintola continued, “Bucky, would Steve be seeing that, or would you?”

Bucky swallowed and looked at the ground. “I don’t want what happened to push me back.”

“It will not, so long as we talk about it.” She told him. “Everything you’re feeling about what happened, or about your past as the Winter Solider, and your relationship with Steve. How it all correlates, you can say whatever you want here, Bucky, you know this.”

Bucky looked at her seriously. “Promise me you will help me.”

Akintola leaned forward and said just as seriously, “I promise.”

 

* * *

 

“Steve,” Bucky said in the dark.

Steve moved closer to him, his arms coming around Bucky and pulling him close. Bucky sighed in relief, burying his head against Steve’s chest, putting his hand on Steve’s beard. He felt real now, the therapy had helped, it had taken all day for him to come back to himself, the present, his body, how he felt, what he needed. Now though, he was okay, he was in bed with Steve and Steve’s new look made sense, and Bucky was safe.

“Yeah, love?”

“I left your peaches at the market.”

“It’s okay Bucky.”

“Steve,”

“Yeah?”

“You’re…you’re the reason I didn’t kill myself. When I was between being the asset and me, when I was there but not always…remembering you. It kept me alive.”

For a moment, it was completely quiet. The silence was deafening, and Bucky was frightened he had said too much. That was until Steve moved over him, and kissed him, and everything zeroed in for Bucky, bringing him back to this moment right here, right now.

He was present.

“Make me forget,” Bucky pleaded.

Steve complied.

Steve kissed him softly, lovingly, and with complete adoration. Bucky melted into it, forcing every bad thought to leave him. There was just this, Steve touching him, loving him, giving him what he needed. Bucky was not perfect, he would have to deal with trauma for a long time, and what happened today hurt his brain, and made the noise in there worse, but this took some of it away.

Bucky couldn’t help his small whimper when Steve started to touch him, really touch him, his fingers dipping under the waistline of Bucky’s boxers. Steve trailed a kiss down Bucky’s chest, and he reveled in the feel of Steve’s beard leaving its own interesting trail of sensitivity over Bucky’s chest. It was an incredible feeling. Everything was heightened because of the darkness, so Bucky worked with feeling. His human hand gripped Steve’s hair as Steve moved lower and lower, his tongue dipping out over a spot by Bucky’s hipbones, before he placed a tiny bite. Bucky grinned.

“Are you okay?” Steve asked.

Bucky whispered, “Continue.”

Steve grabbed Bucky’s erection and enveloped him, taking him into his mouth. Bucky’s breath caught in his throat, and his hips jerked forward, the wetness and the heat catching him by surprise. When he tried to fuck into Steve’s mouth once more, Steve kept a hand on Bucky’s hip to keep him steady.

“Buck,”

“S-sorry,” Bucky whispered, except he wasn’t, not really.

Steve went back to work, hollowing out his cheeks and sliding all the way down.  Bucky choked again, a sob coming out somewhere between that and a moan, his eyes clenching shut as Steve’s mouth and tongue worked wonders on him. Steve’s other hand moved to Bucky’s underside, rubbing sweet circles into his skin.

Bucky wished they were doing more, but this was also enough and exactly what he needed.

Bucky was aware a few tears slipped from him, when Steve’s nose touched Bucky’s base. He was seeing stars, he had never felt more connected to his body than in this moment. There was a pressure in his gut, he wanted to warn Steve, he wanted to praise Steve, he wanted to touch Steve, but all he could do was tighten his legs around Steve’s head, and grip Steve’s hair harder, and let out a cry as he came, Steve taking everything without complaint.

When it was over, Bucky was somewhere in his body and floating above it at the same time. He think he thanked Steve, but wasn’t too sure. Steve kissed his tears away and whispered ‘I love you’ in his ear, and held him to his warm body, and Bucky fell asleep in Steve’s strong, capable arms.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope you guys liked this chapter! a little angst, a little softness. 
> 
> by the way, you WILL find out how zemo escaped from his cell.
> 
> in the next chapter, bucky is still recovering, but steve has some own issues of his own when he gets a package in the mail. and maybe, just maybe, theyre finally going to make love
> 
> i hope you all liked it, please comment if you did :) xx


	6. the light

Steve woke up to a very, very small thud.

It was easy to get him up, sometimes he bolted out of bed, sweating and ready with the gun that he kept under his pillow. Other times his eyes snapped open, and he had to count to twenty and remember that it was just a noise in the house and no one was trying to come after him. Today, was an in-between. His eyes opened immediately, and his hand reached for the gun on the bedside table (he had moved it out from under the pillow when Bucky started sleeping in the same bed as him) and moved in the bed.

Bucky stirred as well, but Steve lightly peppered him with a kiss to his forehead. “Steve?” he mumbled.

“Sleep baby,” he whispered. “I’m going to the bathroom.”

“Kay,” Bucky mumbled, falling back under relatively quickly.

Steve didn’t smile. There was enough light for him to see shadows against curtains, people were definitely moving around the house outside. His heart was surprisingly steady considering there was a chance someone was going to break in. He walked slowly throughout the house, quiet like a cat, before he reached the door, holding his breath and bringing his gun up. He might not look threatening in a pair of boxers, but the gun would be more than enough.

Until he heard the voice on the other side.

A voice he recognized.

“For the love of…” Steve shook his head, putting the gun on safety mode before he tucked it inside his boxers, letting the handle stick out. “Tony,” he opened the door, using his friend’s name as greeting.

“Delivery!” Tony Stark exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air. “Nice beard old man. Can I come in? Is Barnes naked?”

“He’s asleep,” Steve mumbled, moving aside so Tony could walk inside the house. A moment later, Rhodey and Pepper Potts strolled in as well, Rhodey carrying a massive box like it weighed nothing. Steve’s heart sank to his stomach, he had an uneasy feeling about that package. “Do any of you want some coffee?” he offered lamely.

Pepper grabbed Steve’s hand and led him to the couch, sitting by him. He had never spent too much time with her, but his respect for her was very high nonetheless. “No, we won’t be staying long.”

“I’m surprised you’re here,” he told her. “You don’t usually leave New York.”

Tony was walking around the small home, doing what he always did and looking at every little gadget and thing within the house. He waved his hand around as he spoke, Steve often wondered if it was a nervous tick or if it was just a part of his personality. “Pepper and I haven’t been to Italy in a while, and I had a package to drop off, so we figured we would make it a family trip.” He continued quickly before Steve had a chance to say anything, “How long are you planning on staying here?” he asked seriously, looking over his shoulder. “You can only hide out for so long.”

“I was hoping another month would do,” Steve said tiredly.

Rhodey looked at Steve sadly. “That scuffle Bucky had with Zemo in the market is everywhere man.”

Steve shook his head. “Doesn’t mean they know we’re here.”

“They’ll find out,”

Steve looked over at Tony. “How did he escape, Tony?”

Tony looked as angry as Steve felt. “Infiltrators,” he muttered. “Zemo is dead now though, so it doesn’t matter.”

“It does matter.” He sighed, pulling his hand away from Pepper and putting his head in his hands. For a moment, no one spoke, but he still heard Tony walking around the house. He moved one hand away from his face and took out his gun, setting it on the table. He looked up at Tony, only Tony, meeting his eyes. “When have you ever known me to keep a gun on me?” he asked seriously.

Tony stopped walking finally, and crossed his arms over his chest. “Come home, Steve.”

Steve didn’t break. “You know who my home is.”

Rhodey patted Steve on his back, trying to sound as cheerful as possible. “We can make space for him.”

“He doesn’t…” Steve shook his head. “We need time, here, on our own, before we’re able to be around people.” He pointed to the gun. “Until I’m back at not needing that next to me. Besides, we spent decades apart. I think we earned some time.”

Tony shrugged. “You know, there’s always place for you with us.”

“I know Tony,”

Tony nodded and pointed to the massive package. He looked over at Rhodey and Pepper, asking them nicely, “Give us a minute?”

“Of course,” Pepper kissed Steve lightly on the cheek and walked out of the house, Rhodey shaking Steve’s hand before he followed her out, closing the door.

Tony didn’t sit, he pointed at the box and then looked at Steve. “Are you going to open it?”

Steve shook his head. “I already know what it is.”

“Are you clairvoyant now?”

“It’s the shield,” Steve tore his eyes away from the box, looking at him. “Right?”

Tony sighed and dragged a hand over his face. “Look, I get it okay. We had a thing, and you parted ways because you couldn’t be the Captain after Hydra being a part of SHIELD and you chose Bucky. I get it. But the world needs a hero.”

“They have you.”

“I’m not enough,” Tony shook his head, smiling sadly. “They miss their hero.”

“I don’t think I’m meant to be this forever,” Steve said. “I got pulled out of the ice and pushed into a war before I had a chance to mourn what I missed. Now I have that person back, shouldn’t I get to enjoy it?” he almost said what he wanted to say which was—if you had this with your parents, wouldn’t you want to enjoy it. But he didn’t want to end Tony’s visit on a sore note.

Tony looked at Steve curiously. “Open it today, okay?” he said softly. “It’s not what you think, I promise.”

Steve nodded and got up, walking over to Tony. “Thank you, for what you did for him.”

Tony shrugged. “What happened, happened. Something bigger than us is coming Cap, I can’t focus on the past anymore.” He looked toward the box and smiled sadly still. “Neither can you.” He put a hand on Steve’s shoulder and smiled best he could. “You’ll always be an Avenger.” It seemed like an interesting thing to say considering Tony just said not to dwell in the past—unless Steve was missing his point.

Let go of the bad, and work towards the good maybe.

Steve didn’t know, but he watched Tony leave, and went over to the front door, locking it. He didn’t look back at the box. He walked back to the bedroom, glancing at the clock as he went—it was just after nine. He smiled lightly, he hadn’t slept in like that, in a long while.

When he entered the bedroom, Steve stopped and frowned.

Bucky was sitting on the bed, the closet was strewn open and hanging in the front on the door of it was Steve’s suit. He had stripped away anything connecting him to the Avengers and to America—there was no red, white or blue on it. Everything was black, no stars, the colors painted over, and the symbols stripped off.

Bucky was smiling sadly at it.

“Buck…”

“I bet you look real good in it, Stevie.” He said, his voice solemn.

“Why are you sad?” Steve asked immediately. He didn’t move from where he was. He leaned against the door and watched Bucky, not quite sure as to where Bucky’s mind was right now.

Bucky didn’t look at Steve. “You gave it all up for me.”

“So did you Buck, you died.”

“God,” Bucky sighed, shaking his head. “Is that what it’s always going to be? You’re going to keep doing stupid things and just say ‘well you died, so I’m allowed’.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “That’s hardly what I’m doing.”

“Isn’t it?” Bucky asked waving his metal arm at the suit. “God, could you be more dramatic?”

“I can actually,” Steve shot back childishly. “Remember when I ignored you for two weeks after you kissed a girl at that stupid carnival?”

Now it was Bucky’s turn to role his eyes. “Jesus grandpa, are we still arguing about that?”

“You didn’t have to do it in front of me!”

Bucky laughed, halfway between a tired one and a real one. It made Steve grin—this is what he wanted, he didn’t want to talk about the suit, or what was in the box, or what had happened yesterday. He wanted a day of peace, of him and Bucky healing with each other. He knew that healing required talking about it, and coping methods, but healing needed this too—happiness.

“God, she kissed me first, and I couldn’t really say no.”

“You kissed her back way too eagerly.”

“Oh, barely,” Bucky said, finally looking Steve’s way. “Besides, I made it up to you once you started talking to me again.”

Steve smiled in reembrace. “That’s true.” He walked over to the bed and sat down on it, leaning in to kiss Bucky tenderly. Bucky’s lips were a little wet, which meant he brushed his teeth. His minty breath made Steven smile wider into the kiss. Bucky’s human hand reached over and laid over Steve’s heart, feeling the beat, as though it reminded him that they were here, and alive.

“Steve,” Bucky whispered.

“Yeah?”

“Can you do something for me, tonight?”

“Of course,” Steve said pulling back, running a hand through Bucky’s hair. “Anything for my best guy.”

Bucky stared at him seriously. “Will you make love to me tonight?” he asked—and Steve, well, Steve could not say no to that. Not the way Bucky asked. That was asking him something different from just being _fucked_. Steve could fuck as well as the next man, and so could Bucky, but for them, where they came from, fucking and making love were two different things, and Bucky needed the latter. He needed to be held, and wanted, and needed. Sometimes Bucky needed to be fucked to forget about the bad things, but when he asked for this, it was because he wanted to be present. He was like that then too.

Steve could not say no. he didn’t want to say no.

“Yeah Buck,” Steve whispered, kissing him tenderly again. “Yeah.”

“Really?” Bucky asked. “I thought I would have to fight you on it.”

“No I think…I think we’re ready.”

Bucky smiled, and it was the most breathtaking thing in the world.

 

* * *

 

“ _Grazie,_ ” Steve took his gelato and went to join Bucky on the small terrace outside the ice cream shop. It was their reward after their intense work out session that morning—they had sprinted for twenty minutes straight, never taking a break (partially to see who could outrun who), lost count of how many pushups they have done, and trained each other with their fighting.

The sun was shining brightly today, there was not a cloud in the sky. Bucky looked beautiful, he was wearing a tank top, so people were staring at his arm, but he was doing his very best not to pay attention. Steve was glad he wasn’t letting it get to him.

“You’re so gorgeous,” Steve planted a kiss on his lips before taking the seat opposite him. He swung one leg over the other and began to eat his gelato.

Bucky glanced over at him, already halfway through his. “Let me guess—”

“I got two flavors,” Steve gave him a hint.

Bucky chuckled. “Vanilla and peach.”

“You know me so well.”  Steve offered him some, but Bucky shook his head.

Bucky looked at Steve affectionately and told him, “It could be like this, always, if you want it to be.” He murmured.

Steve paused, an unwelcome feeling in his stomach. “I don’t think the world is going to let us, Buck.”

“I don’t care what the world wants,” Bucky argued. “If we run they can’t find us. Wakanda is a real nice place.”

Steve smiled and put his gelato down, stretching out his hand to grab Bucky’s. He brought it to his mouth, and as he lifted his head, Bucky leaned forward and kissed him softly. When they pulled apart, Bucky was smiling.

“You taste like peaches.”

Steve kissed him again. “I love you, do you know that?”

“I had a feeling.” Bucky chuckled. “Come on Stevie, we can leave, we can run, we can go wherever you want. You and me.”

“You know I can’t Buck, you know I got to stick around if they need me.”

Bucky sighed and shook his head. “You’re too good for them.”

“Come on,” Steve whispered. “Don’t be sad.”

“I’m not,” Bucky promised. “I’m not, I’m just…I’m sorry. We’re supposed to be having an easy day. I’m just shaken up I guess. Yesterday is still…” he waved his hand around, and Steve understood. It wasn’t easy to get over something like that, not when every memory of war was so fresh to the surface, and you spent an hour washing yourself clean of blood.

“We can still have a break though, you know, until they need me—us.” Steve smiled. “Where do you want to go after here?”

Bucky looked excited by that, his mood lifting almost immediately. “Well, we can continue touring Italy? We can go to Rome, or Venice.”

“Venice sounds fun,” Steve agreed. “That’s romantic.”

“Then Paris,” Bucky mused, finishing the last bit of his ice cream, pushing his to the side while he watched Steve finish his. “That’s the city of love.”

“We should go to Canada,” Steve laughed softly. “No one would ever think to look for us in Canada.”

“You know, there’s a guy there,” Bucky tapped his metal fingers on the table, trying to jog his memory. “Met him a long while ago while I was there when I was you know,” he said guilty, “ _him._ ” he continued quickly, not wanting to focus on who he used to be. “Anyway, his name was Logan, he gave me such a run for my money.”

“Logan,” Steve frowned. “I knew a Logan once.”

Bucky snapped his fingers together. “He fought with us in the war!” he exclaimed, memories snapping back quickly. “Remember, he had those claws.” He scraped his knuckles as if he could physically show Steve.

Steve snapped his fingers back too, remembering the fierceness of the man who had once called himself The Wolverine. “Wow, so you met him again in Canada huh, how did that fight go?” he could imagine it almost, the animal anger from Logan to the quick fighting style Bucky used as the Winter Soldier. That fight would almost be an art.

“He got me good,” Bucky pulled up his shirt showing off three scars right by his hip. “Didn’t want to kill me though, apparently he knew something was wrong.”

“He remembered you too?”

“I don’t know,” Bucky admitted. “Kind of seemed like he was struggling with something too. He was a good fighter though, you should tell Tony about him. Maybe we can recruit him.”

“We,” Steve chuckled, shaking his head. “Look at you, talking about the Avengers like you’re already a part of the team.”

“Well, where you go I go, Captain.”

“I thought you followed the kid from Brooklyn.” Steve finished off the last of his peach gelato, licking his lips.

Bucky leaned forward, catching the bit that dripped down his chin. “I’d follow your ass anywhere.”

“How romantic,” Steve chuckled while Bucky licked his chin. “You know, at the end of it, you haven’t changed much.”

“Neither have you, Stevie. After all this time, you still get the same two flavors of ice cream. Some things never change.”

“Oh, shut up.”

 

* * *

 

“I feel like this shouldn’t be so awkward.” Bucky said, trying to breathe in and out at a regular pace. He was looking at Steve, who was looking back at him. They were standing in front of each other in their bedroom, completely naked. It was not the first time they had seen each other naked, but somehow this was different. This was Bucky finally, _finally_ getting what he had wanted for so long.

To be touched without being hurt.

To be loved.

Steve’s eyes were worried. “I don’t want you to feel awkward.”

“Well you’re just staring at me,” Bucky grinned.

Steve chuckled. “So are you.”

“This is stupid,” Bucky laughed. “We’ve had sex before.”

Steve nodded “We have.”

“Not recently,”

“No.” Steve whispered. “Not recently.”

Bucky sighed and picked himself up, straightening his back. “Steve,” he said, forcing all his anxieties away. “Love me.”

Steve didn’t need telling twice. He closed the distance between himself and Bucky, taking Bucky’s face in his hands like he was the most delicate thing in the world. The kiss was soft, it made Bucky’s stomach flutter with butterflies. Steve’s hands were gentle, pushing him to the bed, crawling over him as they got settled. Bucky knew he was a little hesitant, but they had both spoken about it again, they were both consenting adults. It had just been a long time.

Bucky whispered against his lips, “I love you.”

Steve relaxed, pressing tighter against him. “I love you too.” The lube was already on the bed next to them, prepared—but no condom. They were both clean, having not done this with anyone ever besides each other, so there was no need. Bucky wanted to feel all of Steve.

“We’ll go slowly,” Steve told him.

Bucky smiled. “Okay,” Bucky liked a rough pounding every once and a while, but it had been too long before they could settle into something like that. For now, this was enough, this was _more_ than enough.

“I’m going to take care of you,” Steve told him calmly. Bucky couldn’t look away from his eyes—he heard a snap, and he felt Steve’s hands on him but he couldn’t look away. Steve meant those words so strongly, it burned in Bucky’s soul. “Buck? What’s wrong?” he kissed a falling tear from Bucky’s eyes. “Do you want to stop?” he realized Steve’s finger was right by his entrance, and his breath hitched.

“No,” Bucky smiled. “No, no, God I’m sorry, I can’t keep crying every time we do this. I’m just…”

Steve kissed Bucky’s chin, and Bucky ran a hand through Steve’s hair, a moan breaking from him as Steve pushed a finger in. “You haven’t been loved in a long time.”

Bucky nodded. “Yeah…”

“You have me, always,”

Bucky half sobbed, half moaned, because when did Steve put another finger in him? There was so much heat around him, arousal shooting through Bucky, his mouth kissing Steve’s broad shoulder. This was everything he had been waiting for, but not quite the complete thing just yet. Bucky spread his legs further, smiling gently as Steve’s eyes grew dark from that, watching Bucky spread for him.

A tremor shot through Bucky as Steve hit his sweet spot. Steve stilled. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” Bucky whispered, trying to focus. “Yes, yes, yes.”

Steve resumed his speed, making sure to stretch Bucky enough before he had to take Steve—not the easiest thing to do to begin with. Bucky tried to move against him, but Steve was far, too far, so he pulled Steve down for a kiss, whining into his mouth. He rocked back against Steve’s hand.

“Please,” he begged. “Love me, love me.”

Steve nodded, and Bucky wasn’t sure if he was imagining it but it looked like Steve’s eyes were glassy with tears too. Bucky’s hands swept over Steve’s back, feeling him shake with want. “Okay Buck,” he whispered. “Okay.”

He took his fingers out and Bucky whimpered. Steve moved quickly, Bucky was somewhere else already, keeping his hands on Steve’s arms, there were only a couple seconds of feeling empty before he _felt everything, he was being opened up, he was being stretched, everything was hot and wet and Steve’s mouth was on his neck, and Bucky gasped—_

“B-Bucky?” Steve asked, stilling in him, his eyes searching. “Bucky, look at me.”

Bucky didn’t realize he had lost himself. He had to force himself to call to attention, to look Steve in the eyes. He never remembered slipping this fast. “Please,” he whispered.

Steve kissed him hard, moving in an unhurried pace, Bucky shifting his hips best he could, holding on to Steve tightly, but not tight enough so that his arm would hurt him. After a small moment, Bucky thinks he must have begged Steve for something, because Steve muttered, “Okay,” and began to pick up speed, to a point where Bucky couldn’t bother meeting his thrusts at all. He lay there and took it, seeing stars, every sound coming out of him nearing to a scream as Steve thrust into him over and over, whispering a thousand I love yous into his skin.

Bucky wrapped his legs around Steve and the change of angle made Steve hit his prostate. Bucky couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t think, he was so in love and so full of want. He clawed against Steve’s arms, panting, sobbing, losing himself, shaking.

Steve was saying something, asking him to relax, but Bucky couldn’t. Steve’s face was in Bucky’s neck, kissing him over and over and Bucky was so far gone he could feel everything and nothing all at once—he was having a complete outer body experience.

He had missed it so much.

He wanted this so badly.

He’s so in love.

Bucky felt a familiar heat in his stomach, his body tingling. He gave a whine when Steve picked up speed, chasing his release and slamming into him, spilling into Bucky. Bucky was out of it—he came untouched, his eyes fluttering shut, not enough in him to moan or scream or cry. He didn’t even realize he was shivering anymore, his mind having gone blank.

Bucky’s body was so heavy. His nerves were shot, and his eyes unfocused. He was vaguely aware of Steve speaking into his ear, vaguely aware of soft touches on his abdomen—a cloth? Steve cleaning him, maybe?

“Buck?” a worried tone. Bucky opened his mouth, but he couldn’t answer. He felt so good. “Bucky, baby, come back.” Fingers running through his hair.

That brought Bucky back slowly. He blinked a couple of times and focused on Steve. “Stevie,” he moved closer, sighing softly against Steve’s body.

“I thought I lost you there for a second.”

Bucky shook his head, but he knew what Steve meant—but didn’t know how it happened. That had _never_ happened before to them. Bucky didn’t so much lose time, but he felt like he was somewhere else entirely. Like his experience was brought up on such a different plane of pleasure, more than anyone could ever experience it.

“That was great, right?” Steve murmured into Bucky’s hair.

Bucky nodded, still trying to find his voice. “Thank you,” he whispered against Steve’s chest, kissing his torso. “For never hurting me when you touched me.” It seemed important for him to say that, to acknowledge how much this meant to him, how Steve treated him made him want to be human again. He looked up at Steve, taking a breath to steady himself.

Steve nodded. “I would never hurt you Buck,” he caressed his face. “Are you okay? You still look a little out of it. Don’t walk into the light again, Bucky.” He joked.

Bucky never felt more serious in all his life. “You are my light, Steve.” And he closed his eyes, and curled up to the man he loved more than anything in the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope you all enjoyed that! please drop me a comment if you liked it, would mean a lot :) x


	7. finale

Bucky didn’t _mean_ to adopt a cat, it sort of just happened.

He had been walking around the town again, and there was a little girl with a box, with her kittens. Apparently they couldn’t manage all of them, and as Bucky walked by his eye caught the tiniest one. It took him all of five seconds before he was asking to adopt the cat, taking the little tiny black thing and holding it to his chest. It was small with a white spot around its eye, mewling lightly in his arms.

He stopped by the pet store to get food, and a tiny bed with some toys for the cat. He stuffed some in his backpack and held the rest with his metal arm while keeping the cat in his human hand, pressed against him.

“What am I going to name you?” he asked seriously, as he walked back up to the house. He was sweating; the sun was high and hot, and the walk between his home to the town was long, but it was part of his exercise. “I’m not creative.” He fished out his key awkwardly, and managed with a great struggle to get the door open. “Maybe I’ll call you Sam,” he laughed to himself. “Since he’s allergic to cats.” Bucky loved the irony of that.

Bucky set the kitten down, bringing the food to the kitchen, preparing it along with some water and setting it down in the kitchen. He cleaned up around him, taking anything away that was sharp or could get in the way.

“Stevie!” he called out, grinning as he watched the cat explore. He walked around following the kitten, smiling grandly. “I brought home a friend.” He sat on the floor and allowed the cat to come and try and climb him, meowing over and over again.  Bucky grabbed the cat and lifted it up so they were eye level. “I already love you.” He told Sam.

“Bucky,” Steve’s voice was grave.

Bucky looked up, setting Sam back down on the floor. His smile didn’t leave, but it fell lightly when he saw Steve standing there.

 Steve had put on the suit.

It clung to him the same way every other suit he had clung to him. Except it was different in every way. It seemed daunting, all the black, the way suddenly the beard made a lot more sense now that the suit was on him. Scarier still was that Steve was holding his new shield, and it was silver and black, no American flag represented anywhere on him.

When Steve asked, “How do I look?” Bucky answered, “I don’t want to go fight.”

Steve’s eyes widened and he immediately set down the shield, walking over to Bucky and sitting by him. His eyes lowered to the cat, and he smiled tenderly, petting the cat softly on the head. “Who’s this?”

Bucky couldn’t focus on Sam right now. The words fell out of him quickly, desperate and pleading, the realization of exactly what he needed and wanting dawning over him like the sun in the morning. “Please Steve,” he whispered. “Don’t make us go. Don’t make us go fight, not yet, I just got you back, I don’t want to leave right now.”

“Bucky—”

“Steve please,” Bucky whispered. “I’ll go when they call, if they _really_ need us to go, but no more. No more of what happened with Thor, just…look, we have a cat now.” He said pathetically, putting Sam in Steve’s arms. The picture of it was horribly beautiful, and it just urged Bucky to hold on to what he had even tighter. “Please, don’t go fight.”

Steve shook his head. “I don’t want to go fight,” he sighed, moving forward and keeping his forehead against Bucky’s. He set the cat down and watched as Sam began to move around the house, exploring and sniffing everything that he crossed. “I want to stay with you here forever.”

“Why can’t we?” he begged. “Aren’t you tired of fighting?”

Steve nodded. “Putting down that shield, when I took you away from Tony, it was the easiest thing I ever did.”

Bucky stared at him, sighing softly. “But…”

“But if they call, you know I can’t turn them away.” He shook his head, running a hand through his hair before bringing it down to rub over his beard. “If you want me to choose, then you know I’m going to choose you.” He looked up at Bucky, their eyes boring into each other; and Bucky didn’t understand if Steve was _asking_ him to choose, or if Steve was saying _please don’t make me choose_.

Not that Bucky would. “You know when you go, I’ll go with you.”

Steve’s eyes were sad, but he knew that there was no room for argument in terms of that. He sighed and moved back against the couch, leaning against it and grabbing Bucky’s hand, holding it tightly in his. “I wish you wouldn’t.”

“I wish _you_ wouldn’t.” he mumbled, putting his head on Steve’s shoulder. “Do you like Sam?”

“Is that his name?” Steve laughed, bringing their hands together to kiss Bucky’s. “You’re such an asshole. You know he’s allergic to cats.”

“It’s not like I bought him a cat.”

“I wouldn’t put it past you.”

“Nah,” Bucky chuckled. “You know, he’s not the worst. None of them are. I know that’s why you go to them when they call, you know that they need you, and you love them.”

Steve got quiet for a few seconds before he muttered a soft, “Yeah,” he turned Bucky’s face towards his and nuzzled their noses together sighing softly. “I love you more, though.”

“I’ll never tell you not to go.” Bucky promised him.

“You’re my first priority.” Steve told him.

In an effort not to have the conversation turn into something gloomy, Bucky took his head off of Steve’s shoulder and looked at him, kissing his cheek tenderly so Steve would look back. Steve smiled tenderly, and Bucky wondered if it was possible to drown in those baby blue eyes.

“Do you remember our first kiss?” Bucky asked, smiling at him softly.

Steve returned the smile easily, his eyes faraway, almost distant and sad. Steve was more of an old man than Bucky was—Bucky had lost so much time, so coming into this new world  was real different from the way Steve came back into it. Bucky adjusted quicker to the time and the place, whereas Steve’s age caught up with him. Then again, Steve was an old soul for as long as Bucky had known him.

“I do, yeah,” Steve laughed softly. “It was right after we got into a fight.”

Bucky grinned wider. “You were mad because I was doing overtime at the factory—”

“You were dead on your feet!” Steve exclaimed in response.

“Someone had to take care of you.”

“Someone also had to take care of _you_.”

“Oh,” Steve waved his hand in complete dismissal. “I was always okay on my own.”

“You were never alone,” Bucky said easily. “That was why we kissed right? That’s what we were fighting about. You didn’t want me to treat you like someone to take care of, but all I ever wanted to do was take care of you.”

“Thing was Buck,” Steve said softly. “I wanted us to take care of each other, not just to have it one sided. But we’re equals now.”

“We were always equals,” Bucky told him, putting his hand on the side of Steve’s face, his hand tingling from where Steve’s beard met his skin. “You just have a little more muscle mass now.”

“A little?” Steve laughed, pinching Bucky’s thigh. “I could bench press you now.”

“Punk, I’d like to see you try.”

Steve chuckled and leaned forward, threading his fingers through Bucky’s hair and pulled him close. For a moment Bucky kept it as it was, without letting their lips touch, just listening to the sound of Steve’s breathing. Bucky held his hand tighter, so in love, so at peace in this small moment. Nothing else existed, no war, no battles. Steve in the black suit was still just Steve. It didn’t mean they had to go, it was just Steve looking at it on.

“Do you want to?” Steve asked.

Bucky sighed. “Do you have to ask?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Jeez, it was rhetorical question Steve.”

“I’m just being a gentleman,”

“I know I was joking.”

“I feel,” Steve laughed. “Like we’re talking too much.” He kissed Bucky again as they got up clumsily, and they nearly tripped over each other. Bucky laughed with Steve into the kiss, and his heart soared with that idea—that two people in love were able to laugh during intimate moments.

They stumbled to the bedroom, Bucky undressing quickly. Steve’s hands lifted to his suit, but Bucky stilled him, his breathing intense as he said, “No,” he smiled, and Steve’s eyes sparkled. “Keep the suit on.”

“Really?” Steve asked.

“Yeah,” he breathed, claiming his mouth again. There was an urgency between the two of them placed between each laugh.

In the bedroom, Steve lay Bucky down, there was no distance between their bodies much to Bucky’s pleasure. Bucky let his hands explore the suit, feeling the bumps and structure of it, how it fit so beautifully to his boyfriend’s body. He huffed as his hands reached between them, fumbling with Steve’s pants, just trying to get those undone. Steve was kissing Bucky’s neck, leaving marks that Bucky would have fun tracing later.

“I love you so much,” Steve whispered into his skin.

Bucky shivered with those words. He would never get tired of hearing those words, of knowing that over him, he had someone who loved him and cherished him. “I missed you,” he told him.

“I’m right here,” Steve reminded him.

“Never leave me.” He begged.

“Never.”

Their lips met again, softer now, but Bucky is naked and rutting upwards against Steve, who is grinding down—that friction of his suit against bare skin makes Bucky gasp into the kiss, turning away to try and take a breath.

“Lube,” Steve breathed, trying to focus.

“Spit,” Bucky countered. “Lube is too far.”

“Bucky—”

“Please baby doll,” he whispered in Steve’s ear. “Please love me,”

Steve jerked in Bucky’s arm, a loud breath falling from him as they both tried to find their groundings with each other. He did as he was told, getting himself out of his pants, pushing them halfway down his thighs. Bucky spit into his hand and helped Steve with his erection, choking on a gasp as Bucky’s hand grasped him.

“Hurry up,” Bucky said, pulling back.

Steve grinned, kissing Bucky’s chin. “You’re so impatient.”

“You would be too if— _ah_ ,” he tensed, his muscles clenching tightly when Steve pushed in. he liked it like this—Steve on top, in broad daylight, where they could see every line and muscle of each other. Bucky was at his most vulnerable like this, and he knew that it was a turn on for both of them to know that it was something they only shared with each other.

“You okay?” Steve’s eyebrows were furrowed in concentration.

“Yeah sorry…”

“Unclench Bucky,” Steve pleaded. “Otherwise I…I won’t last.”

Bucky had to steady his breathing before he let himself relax, allowing Steve to push in completely. He sighed in relief; holding Steve close to him, his face alight with electricity from Steve’s beard that grazed his cheeks. Steve who was so solid and safe above him, holding him close to his body.

“A little harder this time,” Bucky whispered. “Okay?”

Steve nodded, unable to speak, and picked up a rhythm best he could. He was hard and unrelenting, sending Bucky on an upward spiral that he hoped would never end. Steve’s moans were falling into Bucky’s skin and Bucky responded back as he always did, with his words,

“I love you,” he was in heaven. “Forever,” they kissed lazily, barely a kiss at all from the way Steve was pounding into him.

Bucky’s moan broke when Steve hit his prostate, keeping the angle when he found it, hitting it every time. It was as painful as it was pleasurable, and not too soon was there a pleasant feeling erupting at the base of his spine, moving all over his body before he hit his high, dirtying his abdomen and Steve’s black suit, while Steve used Bucky’s sensitive body to reach his climax. When Steve came he kissed Bucky hard and long, collapsing on top of him.

He tried to pull out, but Bucky held him still.

“No,” Bucky said, his hands moving over the suit. “Just stay for a bit,”

“Okay,” Steve whispered.

Bucky closed his eyes, focusing on the beat of Steve’s heart, the feel of his body over him, and what it meant to have him here, even in this suit. A war was coming, and they would meet it when it did, but Bucky would hold on as much as he could for as long as he was able.

He blinked back tears and said, “I will never love anyone as much as I love you.”

Steve lifted his face and smiled, and Bucky committed that to his memory. “I know, that’s how it is for me too Bucky.” They kissed once more, their make out session hot enough that it got them ready for round two with each other; Steve eventually shedding the suit.

Bucky vowed as they made love for that second time, with Steve pressing his lips all over Bucky’s body, slow and tender, that even if Steve would die in that suit, Bucky would follow him.

There were just some things a man couldn’t live without, and for Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers was it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope you all enjoyed the story, even though it was a little short. i didnt want to drag it out and have it get boring, so i decided to end it while it was still on a high. thanks for the love babes. xx


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